


Mirage

by dragonquesttbh



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alcohol, Confessions, Curses, Dragon Quest XI Act III Spoilers, El's Secret Draw, Gallopolitan!Erik, Kidnapping, Luminary Depicted as 20, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Erik/ Derk, Post-Canon Fix-It, Prince/ Consort, Secret Identity, Tension, magical transformation, secrecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonquesttbh/pseuds/dragonquesttbh
Summary: Two years after the defeat of the Dark One, Saraj enters the contest to become the Prince of Dundrasil's consort.Unbeknownst to the prince, under the layers of sheer silk, behind the shining amber eyes, the Gallopolitan glow, lies his old companion– grasping at a chance of intimacy with the man he loves.(Erik seduces El while under the effect of a transformation spell. Chaos ensues)
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Marutina | Jade/Sena | Serena (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 148
Kudos: 87





	1. Aphrodite's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious woman offers an empty, lovesick Erik a remedy to his heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two years post-game (excluding any new switch content) where Dundrasil has been rebuilt :-)
> 
> A THOUSAND THANK YOUS to Ace for being so supportive throughout and to Flutie for letting me borrow tentacular tits as a curse!!
> 
> Ah, and to all the lovely people on SoS, you're all top lads <3
> 
> **El is depicted as an adult. I do not condone underage fic.**

Erik admired himself in the mirror, stroking a hand through coarse, blond hair. Amber eyes stared back at him, peeking through the curls hanging over his forehead. Bronzed skin glowed under the soft candlelight, only glowing more brightly against the embroidered linen of his borrowed nightshirt. 

He tugged at a single shimmering strand, hand falling away in disbelief as it didn't crumble like gold leaf. 

Golden things were supposed to be fragile. 

Yet it sprung back through his fingers, _alive._

He rubbed both hands over the smooth, tanned skin of his arms. 

It didn't budge. 

His head fell into his hands as he laughed. 

It had been easy, far too easy. Dundrasil really ought to have tighter security. 

He startled at the creak of the door. 

Sleepy blue eyes met his own, regarding him with a familiar warmth. 

* * *

  
**₪₪₪ THREE DAYS EARLIER ₪₪₪**

"Let me IN!" he yelled, stamping his foot. 

The guards sniggered amongst themselves, the one on the left, who had a distinctly greasy clump of hair hanging in his face, elbowing his friend to whisper in his ear. Whatever greaseball said, it was clearly _very_ amusing as his friend spluttered noisily, almost dropping his spear in the process. 

He looked Erik up and down. "Sorry, love. Staff entrance is 'round the side." 

His friend, who was in desperate need of a haircut, guffawed noisily, leaning back against the castle wall. Only certain men could pull off long hair, and he certainly wasn't one of them. 

He wasn't _him_.

Erik growled, balling his fists. "I am a saviour of ERDREA! Not a fuckin', not…" 

He was pulled away by a vicious tug to his arm. Mia glowered at him, lips pressed into a taut line. "C'mon, Erik. You're embarrassing me. We can go visit your boyfriend later!" 

"This is the tenth tentacular titty time! These fuckin' bastards– Ugh!" He stamped his foot again, well aware that he looked like a stroppy toddler throwing a temper tantrum. "He's _not_ my boyfriend!" he cried, glaring down at her, tone coming out far more defensive than he'd intended. 

He wished. He wished he could call El that, _his_. And maybe, once upon a time, he could have: all those subtle brushes of hands, those longing looks across the campfire, the small bits and pieces El made him on the forge. 

Sure, he made everyone armour and weapons, but he was the only one who received small, precious trinkets and charms, ones worn outside of battle. 

He toyed with an earring, twisting the carefully set sapphire between his fingers. It gave a pleasant buzz under his touch, the powerful healing magic enchanted in them flowing through his fingertips. 

He heaved out a sigh. 

The last time he saw him in Arboria, he was sure there was something behind the twinkle of those eyes, the way he lead him away from the others to watch the stars together. Perched precariously on the wall, their lips inches apart, he had gazed into the infinite warmth of those soft, blue eyes, neither of them quite daring to speak. 

But none of that mattered. 

Not if he couldn't even see him. 

Maybe El didn't even want to see him, maybe he'd specifically asked the guards to keep him away.

Hairball tilted his head to this side. "Deep in thought, are we darlin'? Well don't think too 'ard, wouldn't wanna 'urt yourself." 

Erik snapped out of his reverie with the flick of his earring. He narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak. Then clicked it shut, thinking of better than to engage with these people. 

"Look, if you're trying to flirt your way in, try Steve round the side." He nodded to the left, unruly strands falling over his face. "He ain't 'ad a bird in ages an', y'know, beggars can't be choosers." 

Erik sucked air through his teeth, eyeing him with ferocity. He reached a hand to his belt, only to find empty space where his daggers usually sat. 

Mia clutched them behind her back, shooting him a very clear warning glare. 

He slackened. She was right. It was no use. 

Time to give up and find another exceptionally dull man in the tavern to keep him company. 

Hopefully this time he didn't end up raving about castle infrastructure, obsessing over the latest model of commode, the fantastic new drainage system they'd just put in place. 

In the end, he'd just kissed the idiot, out of sheer boredom, out of wanting him to _shut the fuck up._ They'd done it, funnily enough, in the tavern toilets. A regrettable decision, as afterwards he very carefully explained the mechanism of said toilet, animated as he described with delight exactly where human waste ended up. 

Mia had never let him live down Toilet Guy. 

"Wait, of course!" Mr. Slimes-for-hair straightened up against the castle wall, adjusting his helmet. Erik was half surprised it didn't slip off, with all the grime under there. 

"You're 'ere for the consort, thing, ain'tcha?" 

Overgrown bowlcut slammed his pike against the floor. "Well fuck me backwards! I shoulda known it the moment I saw ya. Hmm…" He cast his eyes up and down him, then gave a nod of approval. "I reckon you're in wiv a shot, blue hair an' all. Pretty exotic."

Erik grit his teeth. 

El had been one of the few exceptions who hadn't looked at him like he was some kind of zoo animal when they first met. In fact, the blue hair thing never seemed to come up. It was something he'd just taken in his stride, Erik guessed. 

Lard hair nudged him. "Watch it, mate. If he's gonna end up in the 'ighest level of company, ya don't wanna get on the wrong side o' that. He could be Prince property by the end of the week, an', well, your 'ead could be rolling 'cross the floor."

"Prince property? What're you talkin' about?" Erik clenched both fists, taking a furious step forwards. "He's advertising for a consort?! A _male_ consort?" 

He stepped in closer, pressing a palm to the side of his face. "Well, yeah. 'is majesty's favour for the gent is known all 'cross the kingdom."

Erik stumbled backwards. Did that mean he'd already had a male partner? _Multiple_ male partners?

His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. 

He had no right to be mad, he'd been with men after they'd split up too, but, but, he couldn't help but feel betrayed. Abandoned. Lost. 

Castles and princes weren't the world he belonged to. It was all an infuriating, and extremely seductive, fantasy. One he had willingly succumbed to. 

Oil head cleared his throat. "But you're early, for starters. Tavern on Tuesday, 10pm. Behind the bar. That's where the other lads are gathering."

"Other–?!" He clenched a fist, an all consuming jealousy clenching around his chest, suffocating him. 

The knowledge of _his_ Luminary being with other men, it was too much, far too much. None of them deserved him. He might not deserve him either, but these men had done nothing to earn a place at his side. 

Or underneath him in bed. 

"C'mon Mia, we're going." 

He yanked at her hand, almost pulling her over as he tugged her away, leaving a gaggle of cackling guards in his wake. 

* * *

Erik stormed down the cobbled street, dragging a reluctant Mia behind him.

Mia roughly withdrew her hand. "Erik, that was so embarrassing!" she cried, arms swinging as she strolled after him. "You know how humiliating that was?! They think I have a fuckin' _hooker_ for a brother!" 

Erik stopped abruptly, spinning on his heels. "Well maybe you do," he spat. 

Mia scoffed loudly, narrowing her eyes. "Sorry _his majesty_ doesn't have any available appointments right now, but it doesn't mean you can just say stupid shit like that!" She shoved him roughly. "It's NOT funny!" 

Erik shook his head, a humourless laugh spilling from his lips. "You don't know what I did. You don't know what I did to survive in those five years. You don't know shit. You're just a stupid fucking brat, with a big mouth and no–"

He stopped the second he looked across at her, watery eyes wide and threatening to spill over. She narrowed them at the ground, hands trembling. He'd gone too far. And all because of _him_ , his jealousy. 

"Wait I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I'm the stupid one." His head dropped down, shoulders bunching. "You're right. Sorry, kid. It's not your fault he doesn't wanna see me." 

He stumbled back as Mia threw her arms around his waist, sobbing into his chest. 

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, bringing his arms firmly around her. It wasn't her fault he had never had the courage to act on his feelings, even when the Luminary was right there in front of him, giving him his undivided attention. Maybe if he had back in Arboria, maybe he'd be on the other side of that castle gate, maybe–

"Such an idiot," he mumbled, holding her closer. 

She feebly lifted her head, stopping to wipe her nose on his sleeve. "Just don't do it again, dumbass. Or I'll tell Sylv. I swear. I know where he is. He said I could tell him if you got into trouble. I'll tell Sylv and he'll put a stop to it," she said firmly, lips pressing together. 

Erik squeezed her lightly, offering her a weak smile. "I promise." 

A promise he couldn't break, not for anything. His sister's happiness came first. 

He was lucky that they'd made such a profit from their treasure hunt so that she could afford to go to school and money was no longer a problem. 

Though he may never be accepted into the elite part of society, she still had a chance. 

She flashed him a dazzling smile and nuzzled her head into his chest. 

He really was lucky. 

He pressed a delicate kiss to the top of her head, sighing. "Sorry, I'm an idiot," he mumbled against thick blue hair. 

Then something caught his eye. Tickled his thief instinct. 

An alley– one he swore wasn't there before. 

A magic alley? _Was that a thing now?_

A dark, murky, endless black: something befitting downtown Heliodor, not clean, polished Dundrasil, freshly rebuilt. 

Mia laughed into his tunic, grasping at a handful of fabric. "Damn right you are. My idiot brother." 

"Yeah… I'm stupid," he replied, running his hand over her hair once more before drawing away. "Sorry is it cool if we, uh, go into that alley?" 

Mia sharply turned her head. "Eugh! That creepy fucking dirty one that definitely has a pyscho killer down it?!" 

"Yup," he replied, mouth splitting up into a wide grin. 

"Ugh, fine! But if you get your head bashed in I'm not scooping your brains off the floor." She folded her arms indignantly, giving him her best pout. 

"Thanks! You're the best." He ruffled her hair then slinked off towards the dank gloom of the suspicious alley. 

A strange chill crept over him as he stepped into the shadows, the temperature significantly cooler than the main street. 

He swiped a hand over the damp, moss covered wall, recoiling as his palm was streaked with a mysterious goo. He quickly wiped it on his tunic, desperately hoping Mia didn't see him. 

"You're really spoiling me today, huh?" Mia groaned, sighing loudly. 

She stood behind him, hand on hip, cheeks drawn in like she had just sucked on a lemon. A well-worn expression that he really did love. A mildly pissed off Mia was a welcome comfort after seeing her sharp features scrunched up, eyes shining with tears. 

"Mm, yeah," he hummed, casually leaning back against the wall… only for more mysterious goo to get smeared up his tunic. He gave a shaky laugh, brushing at his sleeve as if it was nothing. 

Mia snorted. "You good?" 

He ran a hand through his spikes. "Pfft, 'course. I really am the best big brother–" 

His eyes locked onto a gleaming, golden door knob, mounted onto the elegant polished wood of a curved door, adorned with intricate golden vines twisting up the frame. 

Within seconds, his hand was on the cool metal, feeling the inviting curve under his palm. The lock clicked under his touch and the door swung open, as if of its own accord. 

"Erik!" Mia hissed, voice low and urgent. "You can't just go around opening creepy ass alley doors!" 

His gaze darted back to her. "Hey, s'not my fault it just opened and–" 

"Welcome, child." 

He jolted on the spot. 

A woman's voice, echoing in the room in front of him. 

"Do come in," she called, honeyed tone drawing him closer. 

His feet moved over the threshold. 

A dainty red glove beckoned him in further. 

His vision blurred as he was bombarded by a whole spectrum of vivid colour. 

A figure: wrapped in a luxurious dress of rich purple silk, embroidered with delicate silk knots of gold and accented with elaborate scarlet vines, perfectly pressed upright collar exposing only the tiniest sliver of skin at her neck, the only other visible skin the strip around her eyes: a deep, deep intoxicating blue. Deeper than the royal blue of the sheer silk that concealed the lower half of her face, the outline of her mouth only just visible. 

A heavy scarf was effortlessly draped over her head, the weighty fabric a forest green topped with a band of gold and sapphires– brilliant, sparkling sapphires to match the jewels that hung at her ears. 

And the ones that hung from his. 

Mia stumbled in after him with all the grace of a cyclops in potion shop, almost knocking a neatly stacked pile of books flying. Each had a gleaming golden binding, inscribed with letters of a forgotten language Erik had only ever seen in the Sniflheim library. 

"Woah, what is this place?" she spluttered, eyes darting around the room. She set a hand to her hip. "And who the fuck are you?!" 

"Mia, please!" He nervously glanced around the small room, scanning the place for another exit, trying not to look like a caged animal.

Just the one behind them. Great. 

He had another quick glance around. 

The surroundings didn't match the splendour of her clothes– far from it, in fact. Though the books were neatly stacked, mysterious herbs carefully organised, glass vials ordered by size, the room was squalid. The shelves half rotten, the walls seeping with damp and the floorboards cracked and uneven. 

He didn't suppose she got much business down this dirty alley. 

The woman brought a gloved hand to her mouth, laughing softly. "You may call me, Aphrodite." 

Erik clawed a hand over the back of his neck, letting out a nervous huff. _Why was he here? Why had he dragged Mia down this alley to meet this strange recluse?_

"You wish to disguise your appearance," she spoke, words effortlessly slipping off her tongue like silk. "To see your beloved."

He flinched, digging a grounding hand into his pocket. That was… uneasy, to say the least. 

_Could_ people with magic read minds? 

That would explain why Veronica hated him so much: if she knew about the debauched fantasies, every single impure thought he'd had about the sacred Luminary, his deeply unholy desecration of a holy figure, then she'd have every right to detest him.

He definitely hated himself a little for it. 

Sucking at his lower lip, his eyes fell to the floor. "Uh, how did you–" 

"I see all, child. Now give me your most treasured possession and I will give you what you desire." She held out an elegantly gloved hand. 

His fingers started toying with an earring, fiddling with the elegantly forged silver filigree, the carefully faceted sapphires. 

Her lips curled up sharply. "Oh, those do look precious. Let me see." 

A sharpness stung at his throat. A pair of earrings to see El, to touch him, to _be with him_. It was a small price, yet one he felt reluctant in paying. 

"Only if you can guarantee I'll look different. And pretty. I need to win this thing." 

"Erik, stop it!" Mia protested, tugging at his arm. "This is shady as hell." 

The enchantress reached a silken hand towards him, tilting his chin up. "Two jewels of topaz set into your sweet face, a bronzed glow to your skin and hair of spun gold..? As if you'd been born under the desert sun, worshipped by her rays." 

"Gallopolitan… That sounds pretty sweet." 

"Erik!" Mia whined, yanking even more harshly at his tunic. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

The woman fetched a vial of clear liquid from the side, the glass decorated with delicate leaves of gold, twirling up to the glittering ruby stopper.

Vibrant pink magic sparked from her fingertips, and with a simple swirl, the mixture became a bubbling, shimmering gold. 

"Drink this, and your royal fantasy will come true." She held the vial out to him, shaking it lightly. "I am sure of it. Now, please, give me those earrings." 

Erik reluctantly unhooked them, an unshiftable weight sitting on his chest as he held out his palm to her. 

Mia gazed up at him, lips parted. "He made them for you… didn't he?" 

He sighed, unable to fight the pang in his chest as they were taken from his grasp. His one reminder of their time together, of what might have been. 

He grit his teeth. 

This had better work. 

A smile carved up the woman's delicate features. "Drink up," she murmured. 

He took the potion from her and frowned, swirling the impossibly golden liquid. It didn't look safe for human consumption, but nonetheless it was strangely inviting, _enticing._

He'd done worse things, he reasoned– it was just the concept of drinking gold that made him uneasy.

He cast a quick glance at Mia, her arms folded sharply, eyes narrowed disapprovingly. 

Very clearly flesh and blood. 

He plugged his nose. 

"To you, Mr. Luminary. You'd better fuckin' pick me." 

His fingers plucked the stopper out and he downed the whole thing. 

The faintest patter of laughter echoed across the room. 

_What was the worst that could happen?_

* * *

Blinded by sleep, Erik bent his head over the toilet bowl, panting. He retched again, forcing up more thin liquid from his stomach. 

He wiped a hand across his mouth and groaned, smearing the back of it with his vomit. 

He blearily opened his eyes. 

"What the yggie lovin' _fuck?_ " 

Blue. Shimmering blue sick, streaked across his hand. 

"Erik, what the fuck are you–" Mia gasped, falling back against the bathroom door. "You're–" 

"Yeah, I'm chucking up blue. I guess that witch poisoned me, huh?" He dropped his head onto the toilet bowl, eyes falling shut. "Shit, Serena's really gonna kick my ass." 

"No, not that," she whispered, mouth barely moving. "Just look in the fuckin' mirror!" 

He sluggishly stumbled to his feet. Then back against the toilet bowl. 

_Holy fuck._

_Two jewels of topaz. Bronzed skin. Hair of spun gold._

He pulled down a blond curl with his finger. 

His gaze flickered between the unfamiliar golden figure in the mirror and the pale blue of his sister's hair, the thin blue slices of her eyes. 

"I-It worked..?" 

"No shit," Mia hummed, lazily picking at her nails. She didn't like being caught off guard, he knew, and was about to give him a masterclass in concealing shock. "Now you can trick your _boyfriend_ into fucking you." 

He pressed a palm to his newly golden-hued face. Honeyed eyes gazed back at him, shimmering gently in the candlelight. 

He spun his head around. "Hey, I'm not tricking him, I'm just–"

"Whatever. I'm going back to bed." 

Erik twisted in the mirror, admiring his new appearance. A smirk crept up his face. 

_Irresistible._

He had this contest in the bag. 

"Okay, but tomorrow we're going to Gallopolis," he hummed, laughing as he raked a hand through fresh, blond curls.

Mia rolled her eyes with a familiar dramatic flair. "Ugh, why? You don't like the prince there coz he's always eyeing up your precious Elly-Welly. Plus, you burn in the sun." 

Erik pointedly ignored the comment about Faris, hissing through his teeth. What did it even mean to look like _someone who knows horses?_

He couldn't help but think it was some creepy rich person kink. 

"WelI, I won't like this!" He held out his arms, flipping them over enthusiastically. "C'mon, Mia, I need to practise my accent."

"Fine, whatever," she growled, hand on hip as she leant into the doorway. "But you owe me! Again!" 

"Oh, is paying for fancy boarding school not enough for ya?" 

"Tsk." She stuck her lower lip out. "Doesn't start 'til next week so I gotta put up with your stupid gay ass 'til then." 

Erik rushed over and hoisted her up, lifting her high into the air. "Aww, aren't you such a cute little sister!"

"Ew!" she cried, laughing as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. "Get off me!" 

Erik spun her around the room, bobbing up and down in his excitement. 

The luckiest man in Erdrea. 

* * *

The cool desert breeze tickled his exposed torso, his swindlers cape swirling behind him. Wearing the clothes El had gifted him was a strange comfort– one marred by bittersweet memories. 

It was ridiculous, he knew, but he hated washing them, these carefully sewn garments El has spent so much time making him, _just for him._ The scent of El: of grass stains and horse and carefree smiles, lingered in fabric long after they separated. A gentle, if slightly pungent, reminder of the sweet-natured country boy that became the hero of Erdrea. 

However, Mia had quickly grown sick of him stinking of sweat during their treasure hunt and after three months, he'd had to reluctantly wash his Corsair kit, their memories together fading into the stream along with the soapy water. They were still there, sure, but nowhere near as vivid as he could no longer remember that exact El essence, the mix of hay and other happy country boy things. 

Instead, the enticing scents of the market pleasantly mingled in his nostrils: the heady scent of rose perfume; the array of coned spices he couldn't possibly name; the smell of charcoal on the grills– only just masking the faint smell of horse manure. 

_Oh, El._

The tinkle of a high pitched giggle resonated across the market. Two women stood to his left, eyeing him coquettishly from the other side of the fruit stall.

The attention his new look brought him, well, he wasn't complaining. Even if he didn't hold an interest in women, it was flattering to see people actively _looking_ , watching him with shining eyes and curved lips. 

He brushed a strand of hair from his face, flashing a grin in their direction, delighting in the sound of an elated sigh. 

The Prince of Dundrasil would be a piece of cake. 

The vendor handed him a silken violet pouch, bowing his head politely. Erik felt the weight of the jewellery under his palm, relishing in the bounce of the sunlight off the gleaming silver and amber. 

_Beautiful_. 

Yet it didn't feel quite the same when he hooked them into his ears, guilt pulling down on him as he thought of the _hours_ El had spent on the forge making those gorgeous sapphire earrings, specially infused with curative magic, only for him to give them up and replace them with a two minute purchase. 

He bit down on his lip, handing the vendor a full coin purse. 

"A thousand pard– No, uh…" Erik scratched at the back of his neck, wincing. "T-Thanks, heh." He quickly ducked his head and stumbled away. 

Mia doubled over, cackling wildly. "Your accent's terrible. There are cats here that speak better Gallopolitan than you." 

Erik flicked his hand out to the side, mimicking the same dramatic flair he'd seen Faris use many a time. "You are such a rude little girl. When will you learn your manners?" 

Mia fell to her knees, body shaking as she guffawed into the dirt. 

He grimaced. Maybe he really was that bad. Maybe they'd have to stay a little longer. 

But the longer they stayed, the higher the chances of running into his Royal Laziness. 

A loud gasp. 

"Oh, praise the sun, for today she has blessed me with this vision!"

Erik jolted where he stood. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you!" Faris sighed dramatically, clasping a hand to his forehead. "Oh, stars above! Your shining halo of hair, your radiant skin, your eyes: a shimmering oasis in a desert of beauty! Oh, what name befits such a beautiful creature?" 

"Uh…" Erik desperately glanced around, eyes dancing over knights, horses and straw. "S-Saraj, your esteemed m-majesty." He dipped his head in a half bow, avoiding Faris' gaze. 

_Saraj?_ It seemed familiar, he'd definitely heard one of the knights say it. Whether it was a name or not, well… that was another matter. 

"Like… a saddle?" Faris paused, hand stilling in the air. 

Mia snorted behind him, both hands clamped over her mouth. 

His face brightened and he _winked_ , laughing as he stuck his thumb up. "Ah, a true Gallopolitan name!"

Erik scratched at the back of his neck. "I… I greatly enjoy the pleasures of riding."

Faris collapsed to his knees. He hit his head against the floor, _repeatedly,_ dust and sand clouding his hair. 

Erik was beginning to wonder if that was why he was, uh… a few soldiers short of a Gallopolitan fleet. 

"Oh! Woe is me! Of course we are incompatible… romantically speaking." He lifted his head out of the dirt, shaking his fist at the sky as if it had personally offended him. "Oh fate, you cruel mistress, why do you hurt you hurt your faithful Prince so?!" 

"Uh, apologies, your highness." 

Faris desperately clung onto his ankles. "No, no, no! One so beautiful should not apologise. Come to dinner tonight, I beg of you! Allow me to make up for this rudeness of mine!" He gazed up at Erik with big, pleading eyes. 

"Uh, thank you but–" 

"We'd love to!" Mia exclaimed, holding out her hand to him. "I'm Maya by the way, nice to meet ya!" 

Faris gratefully accepted her hand and scrambled to his feet. "A thousand thank yous! Oh, what a spirited young woman! I truly am in awe." He stooped to brush sand from his knees, missing entirely. "First, we need to get you some new clothes. Both of you. Come." He skipped forward, absent-mindedly humming a tune… entirely tunelessly. 

Erik shot Mia a death glare. 

Mia simply shrugged and skipped after him, throwing her head back and laughing. 

"So how much is that bracelet worth, your majesty?" she simpered, offering him an innocent smile. 

Typical Mia, thinking with her purse. 

"Ha HA! I see you are a woman of taste!" 

Scowling, he trailed after them, trying not to hit his own head against the ground each time he heard that infuriating laugh. 

* * *

Erik leant over the bar, lips pursing as he watched the barman wipe down yet another barrel. He swore he was doing this on purpose, ignoring him until he was infuriated enough to make a scene. 

It didn't help that he could feel all eyes on him, hear the surrounding murmurings of men and women alike, punctuated by the occasional drunken declaration. 

He caught sight of himself in the reflection of a stray silver platter and grinned. 

The sheer gold silk of his harem pants billowed at his ankles, his cropped shirt equally loose and revealing, scalloping down to expose the slopes of his collarbone, the sleeves puffing out then scrunching just below the elbow. The amber pendant at his neck swung as he leant further over the bar, jiggling with the sudden movement. 

It was deeply comfortable– all skin and sumptuously flowing fabric– in such a hot, stuffy environment. Though with some of the looks he was receiving, he might as well be back under the burning Gallopolitan sun. 

Amber eyes peeked back at him from the perfectly polished silver, ringed with a thick, smouldering layer of kohl. 

"If you're so _worried_ about him, then just go over there, you idiot!" cried a shrill voice. "You're worse than those two dunderheads making googly eyes at each other and doing precisely nothing about it."

Erik froze.

That voice. 

Surely the Goddess didn't hate him that much, surely–

"Just go and talk to him or I'll drag him over here, capiche?" snapped an all too familiar, smooth voice. A classic Jade threat. 

"Fine, I'll just check that he's okay, poor thing, standing all by himself." 

Erik stiffened at a sudden hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey sweetie, are you okay?" he asked softly, a genuine concern to his voice. "If you're by yourself, you're more than welcome to come join us over there." 

"Heh, uh…" Erik swallowed harshly, eyes darting away from Sylv's face. 

If there was one person who seemed to know all your secrets, it was definitely Sylv, and he could not have him busting the operation, not when he was this close. 

"Yeah, good, I mean, s-splendid, just– I need to talk to the barman, my apologies." He lightly tapped the bar. "Hi, I'm, uh, here for the consort thing?" 

Sylv's face slackened. He slapped a palm to his cheek. "Consort?! You mean our sweet little El–" 

"Sorry, love," he muttered, ducking down to fetch a glass. "It's already the final round and c-crikey–"

The glasses clattered onto the table. 

His mouth clicked shut. He cleared his throat. "Y-You're certainly… golden." 

"But of course." He bowed his head politely, offering the barman a sly smile. "Only the best for his majesty." 

"You're quite right." He scratched his head then muttered something under his breath. 

Erik grinned as he lifted the bar and gestured for him to come through. "I really shouldn't be doin' this, y'know. But when 'is majesty sees you, I'm sure he'll thank me greatly."

"Oh you think so?" Erik hummed, slinking under the half opened hatch. "You think my appearance will please him?" 

"I mean, you are very beautiful," Sylv said quietly. There was a forlorn sense to his expression, in the way that he dug his thumb into his cheek, the way those perfectly manicured brows caved down– something Erik couldn't quite place. "I wonder what Erik would think of all this… Oh, sorry sweetie! Lost in thought. Ignore me." 

A sharp pang pierced his chest. At least Sylv hadn't forgotten about him. He wished he could open up to him, stop the ridiculous accent, talk to his old friend. 

He pressed his lips together, barely concealing a sigh. 

"Very much so. You know what they say here, about his majesty's preferences…" The barman chuckled, shaking his head as he wiped an already clean glass. 

"What do they say?" Erik enquired, hand to his hip as he quirked an eyebrow.

The barman shook his head lightly. "That he favours, ahem, the curvier gent." 

Sylv gasped dramatically, leaning over the bar. "Our dear, sweet El has a taste for tush!" 

"Indeed he does." 

"Shit. Should've done more squats," Erik muttered. 

"Right, if you just 'ead on through." The barman nodded behind him, then turned his attention to polishing the bar.

"Oh, honey, you mustn't worry." Sylv offered him a sympathetic, if somewhat, shaky smile. "He's a lovely boy, trust me."

"Oh, I know," he murmured, biting his lip as he raised his hand in a gentle wave. He slipped towards the door, cracking it open. "Goodbye, my Lord." 

Sylv's head perked up. "My Lord?" 

"You are Señor Norberto, are you not? Son of the great Don Rodrigo?" He slid his hand up the doorway, bangles jingling as they crashed to his elbow. "Or Sylvando, bringer of Smiles. Whichever you prefer." 

Sylv paused, tapping his fingers across the bar, tipping his head to the side. "You seem to know an awful lot about me." 

Erik giggled noisily, flashing him one final, blinding grin. He pushed at the door. "Adiós, my liege." 

Sylv shot up. He slapped his hands against the wood. "That grin, I'd know it anywhere!"

Erik's hand stilled on the door knob, amber eyes wide, breath catching in his throat. 

Sylv was the expert in adopting new personas and names. Reinventing himself _. Of course._

"No, silly me," he sighed, dismissing him with the wave of his hand. "Well, I'll see you soon, honey. I'm sure of it!" He offered Erik a bright, sunny smile.

One Erik was immediately sceptical of. That man knew too much. 

"Well, take your bleedin' time!" the barman muttered, tutting loudly. "S'not like I'm doing you an 'uge favour or nothin'." 

"S-Sorry…" He gingerly turned the doorknob, hand twitching against the metal.

Time to catch himself a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik: I need to be lowkey so Sylv doesn't discover the truth!  
> Also Erik: act all-knowing and mysterious JUST BECAUSE 
> 
> In this house we respect dumb boy decisions!! 
> 
> Anyway, please lemme know if you enjoyed this!! I've got a lot more gay idiocy planned <33 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	2. The Prince's Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik reunites with an old friend, and discovers that he is not the only one who has embraced change. (Oh, and there's a picture of his face in El's bedroom.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! :D If it wasn't for you guys, I really wouldn't do shit. Ahem, on with the gay meet cute. 
> 
> AH, and thanks to Chel for riding euphemisms!! 

Erik leant back against the plush chaise lounge, blocking out the whispering to his left. The two men there were clearly twats, and better ignored. The darker haired one, who carried the familiar twang of Downtown Heliodor, sniggered against his friend, elbowing him then turning to stare at Erik. 

Decisively, he turned away, glancing at the boy on his left. Silent, staring at the floor and gnawing at his lower lip, poor thing. Understandably stressed, and Erik's staring probably not helping. 

His eyes shifted forwards. 

Rab, or _Lord Robert_ as he was known here, sat opposite them, face buried in ancient tome: one that had a suspicious layer of pink hidden between the pages. 

At least he hadn't changed. 

It was uncomfortable, though, how he was now here to observe him, rather than be someone he could joke with, or poke fun at. One wrong move could see him booted from the castle. 

The boy next to him hunched over further, palms rubbing over his knees. He looked young, anxious: no older than El, Erik reckoned. 

Erik placed a hand on his shoulder. 

The boy jolted at his touch. 

"Hey, you okay, my friend?" 

He nodded weakly, head falling into his hands. "Y-Yeah, just nervous." 

That accent, unmistakable– the soft lilt he heard on the rare occasion him and Mia ventured into the city as kids. 

Something that tugged at his heart. 

"He's fine," a voice called snidely. "You know what they say, Sniflheimers have obedience bred into them. That's why the Vikings take so many of them as slaves." 

A loud hiss rattled through his teeth. He was lucky, he was so, so lucky, his knives were sitting back in that inn room, absent from their usual position on his hip. Because if they weren't, if they weren't, he wouldn't be able to resist it: the urge to threaten the stupid cunt, point a shining blade at that stupid fucking face and watch that obnoxious grin slip from his lips. 

A swirling, animalistic urge: one learned from the brutal men who'd raised him, and something only nurtured by the hostile environment of Downtown Heliodor. 

Something he'd managed to keep buried while travelling with El. 

Well, mostly. 

When it came to men and women approaching him at the bar, his _partner_ , touching his arm, his shoulder, his face, his hair–

He fondly remembered splattering his drink, a foul, murky ale, down the pristine white shirt of man who wouldn't quite quit it. And the impulsive arm he slipped around his partner's waist, tugging him away, back to the safety of their inn room. A thief in grubby armour. 

El had smiled meekly, curling into his side with a gentle hum.

That night they'd squeezed into the same bed, and, a little loose from all the drink, he'd possessively curled over him underneath the sheets. Not that El seemed to mind. In fact, he cuddled him tightly against his body, smiling sweetly as he dropped off. 

A muffled sniff. 

His gaze shot to the boy beside him: shoulders bunched, face crumpled, as if he could burst into tears any second. 

Erik dropped to his knees in an instant, stroking a comforting hand over his knee. 

"How could I forget," muttered the Heliodoran. "Gallopolitans, the only people sluttier than–" 

"What's your name, kid?" Erik murmured, gently taking one of his hands. It was rough, dry, nails cracked: the hand of someone engaged in hard labour. Just how his had been when the Vikings put him to work for long, relentless hours. 

Erik's eyes danced briefly over his hunched figure. The poor thing was thin, too, clothes hanging off him like useless rags– worryingly thin. Definitely overworked. 

"K-Karl," he whimpered. 

"Okay, what're you doin' here, Karl? Where are your parents?" 

He sniffed, shaking his head. "Gone. And my sister's sick, it's her lungs and, and I can't afford the treatment s-so I thought this would be okay." He roughly scrubbed his hand across his face, curling in on himself. "The prince is known for his kindness, and he's handsome too so…" 

"You'd give yourself, to save her," Erik mumbled thoughtfully, vacantly eyeing the plush carpet as he squeezed his hand. "I don't blame you, I'd do the same." 

The door opened, and there he was: draped in heavy cloth far too big for him, a silver circlet precariously balanced on his head, a stern expression marring that sweet face. It was a face made for smiles, kind gestures, so seeing it stuck in the stern expression of royal duty turned his stomach. 

He wasn't one of those stoney faced royals, he was El, his El.

Well, not any more. 

Erik swallowed the dryness in his throat. 

"Your majesty?" he called, jumping as he instantly captured the prince's attention. 

El's lips parted with a muffled gasp. He strolled over and dropped to his knees beside him, placing a gentle hand on the crying boy in front of them. 

Erik bit at the inside of his cheek. 

Two years. Two whole years. 

He cleared his throat, ignoring the sharp sting as he did, unable to meet El's, _the prince's_ , eyes as he spoke. 

"This poor boy is only here because his sister is sick. I know you are a kind and noble ruler so please, give him the money for the treatment so he does not have to partake in this?" 

El reached out to take his other hand, brow furrowing deeply. "You're doing all this, for your sister?" 

He nodded weakly, hiccuping. "Her lungs, they're weak and with the harsh winter coming–" 

Erik tried not to get wrapped up in the silkiness of that hair, desperately not dwelling on the feeling of it running through his fingers, the soft tickle of it on his face when El wriggled on top of him in the night. That once free hair was now neatly tied in a ponytail, with two simple strands hanging either side of his face: perfectly contained. 

He looked good, so, so good, with the sharp line of his jaw accentuated to a royal degree. 

But he missed his clumsily pulled up hair, on the occasion that it was actually tied up, and his mud-stained tunics, his sloppy grin when he'd drunk a little too much cider. 

This El was too perfect, pristine. Not like his at all. 

El sighed heavily, tucking a strand behind his ear. "You remind me of someone, someone very dear to me… Someone who would do anything for his sister." Those blue eyes became misty, distant, as he turned away and shook his head. 

Erik dug a hand into the silk of his trousers, jaw wired shut as he fought to keep his expression neutral. 

It didn't matter that El was thinking about him, Erik was sure he thought about all of his old friends from time to time. He bit down on his tongue, afraid he might spill over. 

Karl peeked down at him, eyes red and weary. 

El fiddled with one of his free strands of hair, chewing at his lower lip. A familiar, non-princely habit Erik was undeniably grateful to see. 

"Do you like Lonalulu?" he offered quietly. 

"I've seen it on postcards, y-your majesty. It looks beautiful." 

"I'll get you a house there, the climate of Sniflheim can't be good for her respiratory illness. Or somewhere else if you prefer. Anywhere in the world. And I'll pay for your sister's treatment, don't worry." He gazed up him, expression shifting from bashful to determined.

Erik supposed being in possession of so much wealth made El uncomfortable, guilty, even. And this was presumably how he spent most of it. 

The pure, unbridled joy on Karl's face was breathtaking, and utterly, utterly nostalgic. It was an expression he'd seen many a time when El had insisted to stop and help strangers in need. 

But it wasn't the response he loved. 

What he really treasured was the joy it brought to El, the sheer satisfaction he got from making others happy. And he could see it now, the loving curl of those lips, the brightness in those kind eyes. 

"But there's something I want you to do for me, okay? I want you to remember that your health and happiness matter. That's something I really want you to remember, because my friend forgot and I worry about him. Often."

A weight sunk down Erik's body, anchoring him to the ground. Worried… about him? Not worried enough to come and find him, though. 

His fist clenched into a tight ball. 

He didn't dare look at his side, because he knew if he looked there he'd get caught up in that sweet expression, sucked in by his soft demeanour, and his anger would fade into useless remorse. 

He barely heard the enthusiastic gasp of the boy above him. "R-Really?! But your majesty–" 

"Of course." He nodded firmly. "I'll have the guards escort you to a room and we'll finalise details tomorrow." 

"Ah, thank you! Thank you! Thank you so, so much!" He tugged on Erik's hand. "And you, if it wasn't for you–" 

Tears trickled down his ashen face. 

Thin arms wrapped around Erik's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. His head fell onto Karl's lap as he squeezed him fiercely. 

He smiled.

El would be proud– and, well, he was. 

He even _laughed_ as Erik was squashed into this boy's lap, head thrown back in pure, simple joy. 

Erik sucked in a breath as he was released, unaware that he'd had the air knocked out of him. 

Karl shakily got to his feet, stumbling towards the door. "You know, it's not my place to say but, you should really pick him, your majesty. He's the only kindhearted man here, the others are cruel." 

"Thank you, I'll bear that in mind." 

"No, thank you! Ah, b-bye!" He offered Erik a shaky smile. "I know you'll get it! You're by far the sweetest and most beautiful person here." With an awkward wave of his hand, he gleefully ambled away, guided by a softly smiling Drasilian guard. 

At least not all of them were pricks, he mused.

The prince nimbly got to his feet and offered Erik his palm. 

Erik gratefully took the hand stretched before him and bowed gently. "A thousand thank yous, your highness. You truly are a most kind and merciful ruler." 

His mouth quirked up at the corner. He really was getting good at this. 

El's hand lingered in his for a precious moment, fingers grazing Erik's palm. He wordlessly held the prince's gaze, time effortlessly stretching out between them, trapped in each other's touch. 

He dropped Erik's hand abruptly, suddenly bashful as he dug his hands into his tunic, glancing at the ornate wall, the carpeted floor– anywhere other than his face. 

"What's your name, desert flower?" 

He gave a simple bow of his head, clasping his hands together, amber earrings wobbling slightly. "Saraj, your highness." 

"Saraj…" he said thoughtfully, eyes carefully tracing back over his features. 

Erik's breath was stolen from him as the prince reached out a hand, fingertips delicately brushing the curve of his cheekbone. 

A hand quickly withdrawn with a mumbled apology. 

"Ah s-sorry, you just had some hair in your face and I thought it might be tickling you, I…" 

Erik giggled, perfectly mimicking the irritating peel of that famous Gallopolitan laugh. "You know, if I get this position, you are gonna have to touch me, right?" He put a hand to his hip, pouting heavily. 

"Yet I don't feel I deserve to..." His gaze lingered over the amber pendant at his neck, lips parting slightly. Those big blue eyes wandered shyly back up to his face. "One so thoughtful and kind." 

His hand took Erik's and brought it to his mouth, lips grazing his skin. Erik gaped as El held his hand there, so close to his face. 

"I must see these two first because you were a late arrival, but I promise I will see you, Saraj." He gently returned Erik's hand to his side. 

"Wait, yer majesty," Rab called, nose poking above his clearly enthralling volume. 

El spun on his heels, halfway towards the door. 

Erik's eyes remained fixed his lips. Lips he so needed back on his skin, to roam his body– 

"The fellow there has made some… culturally insensitive remarks. I just thought ye should know." 

Erik couldn't hold back the grin slicing up his face as the Heliodoran man's slipped straight off his. 

Thanks, old man. 

"He, er, suggested, that the people of Sniflheim were bred for slavery and that Gallopolitans were somewhat, more, ah, _avid riders_ than the rest…. If you catch ma drift." 

El's soft expression hardened into something rarely seen on such a gentle face: outrage. Pure, unbridled fury. "Guards," he said coolly, lifting a palm in the air, "remove him." 

The man pushed back as a guard grasped his arm. "B-But, your majesty, we was just havin' a laugh…" 

"You find slavery to be… amusing?" he said, eyes narrowing sharply. "Get him out of my sight." 

Erik only just suppressed a laugh as he was dragged out of the room. 

"Come," El murmured, voice softening as he beckoned towards him. 

He froze where he stood, unable to remember exactly how to move. 

"B-But I thought I was next?" the other man protested, getting out of his seat. 

"You can wait," El said sharply. "Unless you objected to his cruel remarks?" 

He solemnly fell back down, head bowed. 

"The best quality a man can have is helping others in need. You'll do well to remember that." 

The man shrunk back in his chair, as if being faced down by a particularly intimidating monster. 

El smiled back at Erik, once again soft and sweet, then tipped his head to the side. "Ready?" 

Erik couldn't stumble after him quickly enough, feet unsteady as he followed him through the open door.

He barely stifled a gasp. 

His bedroom. The prince's bedroom. _El's bedroom._

* * *

Erik squeezed Mia into yet another crushing hug, squashing her close to his chest. 

"Ew, you're so gross," she mumbled, laughing softly. But despite her protests, she leant into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She rarely offered him affection, so her closeness was definitely a sign of vulnerability, concealed worry. He couldn't blame her, moving onto new people and places was frightening. 

Or even the same person, in a different place, where you're a stranger to them. He shoved away all thoughts of the looming contest, the event that everything was hinging on, and bit his lip. 

He let her go with a sigh. 

His baby sister, all grown up. 

He'd never thought Mia would suit a skirt, let alone one so long and fancy. But looking at her, his baby sister, in her clipped navy jacket, red neck tie, crisp white collar and sharply pleated skirt, he could only think of one thing: elegance. Sophistication. 

His gross, grubby, gold-grabbing Mia, all polished and grown up. 

A warm pride filled his chest, a tenderness lighting his face. She really was perfect. His perfect, imperfect sister. 

He leant back on his palms on the bed. "Go on, give us another twirl." 

She gave a shy smile then spun on her heel, skirt flaring out, plait swinging. 

The weighty fabric brushed his knee, the confined space of the dorm room not quite big enough for the swish of her skirt. 

She offered him a polite curtsey. "Monsieur." 

He nodded, tipping his head to the side in approval. "You're gonna fit in juust fine." 

"But…" She bowed her head, body drooping as she flopped onto the bed beside him. "All the other girls, they have pretty names and accents and I'm just Mia, from Sniflheim." 

"Hey, hey, we are not ashamed of where we come from, you hear?" he said firmly, clapping his hand on a slumped shoulder. 

Though he guessed it didn't carry quite the same weight now that he was Saraj of Gallopolis: clothed in billowing silken harem pants and bathed in a golden glow. 

Mia, by contrast, was all blue: dressed in the dark hues of her uniform. 

Like night and day: her pale skin a shimmering moon on a still night, complementing the glow of his setting sun. 

A whole. 

He paused to straighten the bow in her hair, sighing.

He couldn't deny that he liked his new look, being able to run from himself, his identity, to drop Erik in the dirt. As Saraj, the possibilities seemed endless, free from the freezing shackles of his old life as he embraced the warmth of the desert. 

But, looking at Mia, he missed his ivory skin, his blue eyes, his _blue spikes_. The same, thick, unruly hair of his sister. Something that was theirs. Just theirs. 

Not only had he left Erik behind, but also Mia, his little sister. The only other person he really loved. 

"Where do we even come from?" she asked quietly, eyeing the carpet with a distinct weariness. "Nobody else looks like us." 

"And why would you wanna look like everyone else, huh?" He stuck out his arm, gesturing widely across the tiny room as if it was a broad, limitless horizon. "How about, we're descended from a long line of ancient blue-haired royalty! Or merpeople? Or maybe," he patted her arm enthusiastically, "We're part slime!" 

Mia laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're so stupid," she mumbled, though there was no weight behind her voice. She slumped forwards, head falling into her hands. 

He wrapped a gentle arm around her, bringing her in close. "Mm, I bet all girls are gonna be so jealous. They've all gotta stick it out with blonde or beige, but look at you! Blue and beautiful." 

She sighed, nuzzling her face against his shirt. 

He swayed, giggling. "Mia's gonna get herself a pretty girlfriend!" 

She lifted her head sharply. "You think I'm a lesbian?!" 

"Uh, you'd better be," he said, scrunching his nose at her. "Coz no man is ever going near you, got that?" 

"Uh, you're about to let a man get very near to you," she retorted, lips pursing. 

"Hey, not just any man, but the fuckin' messiah!" He raised a hand in the air, arching his back upwards. He caught the glitter of amber eyes in the mirror, the slice of a bright smile shining beneath them. 

Surely not even a _messiah_ would be able to resist him, right? 

He stretched back, glancing across at her. "Anyway, I'm an example of what not to do, mm-kay?" 

"Yeah, I'll think about that the next time some creepy lady offers me some gold to drink," she hummed, nudging him with a sharp elbow. 

"Shut up." He poked her back, offering her a sly smile. "Anyway, you really think I didn't see ya that one time, y'know, having a good ol' look at the Princess' bazoingas?" 

Mia darted away from him. "I didn't, I wasn't–" She scowled, cheeks tinting pink. "Fine, whatever. They're nice, I guess. I mean– s-she's nice! Heh."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry but Serena's already got her claws into her. Well, actually, it's kinda the other way round." 

He withheld a laugh as he thought back to a drunken Serena pulling him over to the steps in Arboria, only to tell him exactly how many fingers Jade had put in her this time. It had made even him, former resident of downtown Heliodor and expert on, well, _fingers_ , blush. 

"Man, some of the shit they get up to–" 

Mia glowered at him. 

"Aww, don't be jealous," he cooed, pinching both of her cheeks. "I'm sure we can find you a girl with an even bigger rack." 

"Ugh, stop it!" She shoved his hands away, fighting a grin as she turned away from him. 

"Mia's gay, Mia's gay…" He chanted, grabbing her shoulders and swaying from side to side. 

"Shuddup," she muttered, jabbing sharply between his ribs. "You're gay." 

He squirmed briefly, trying not to show that she hit one of his weak spots, ones she knew all too well. 

Just like he did. He could easily fall back into the comfort of those memories around the campfire, or in the tent, by the river, when El would ask politely if he'd done what he'd supposed to: pick his socks up off the floor, washed his canteen. The answer was usually no, resulting in a fierce battle with El's devious hands, one always ending in a muffled surrender. 

One he fiercely clung onto was the time El had stumbled into the tent, exhausted, asking a familiar question about chores, only to receive the regular no. He pounced on him, sleepily tickling him with weary hands, clumsily missing, lacking his usual talent to make Erik squeal. He'd soon surrendered, apologising for forgetting to wash his mud-caked tunic. El told him it didn't matter. That he'd already done it for him. Then, with Erik's weight pinned under him, he'd flopped down, cheek pressed over the thrum of his heartbeat. 

_"You're a terrible husband,"_ he'd said. _"But I still love you."_

El was affectionate with everyone, he reasoned. He'd heard several I love yous directed at their friends, followed by a crushing El cuddle. Though, with his sleeping figure on his chest, and the word husband hanging in the air, he really was idiotic to have waited until he was softly snoring before saying it back. 

He paused, glancing across at a deeply unimpressed Mia, presumably still waiting on his comeback. 

He lifted a pensive hand to his chin. "Wait, do you think, whoever we're descended from… They're gay? Blue hair means gay?" 

Mia snorted. "You're so stupid." 

"No, but, that's why there aren't any more of us!" he declared, grinning wildly. He grabbed her by both shoulders, shaking her lightly. "Coz they were all gay so couldn't make babies." 

Mia wrinkled her nose. A sign she was trying to suppress a giggle. "Then how were we born, dumbass?" 

He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Uh, magic?" 

Mia narrowed her eyes, usual mischievous grin lighting her face in full force. "Right, so you're saying we're descended from a long line of blue-haired magical gays?" 

"Duh." He tutted, rolling his eyes. "C'mon Mia, keep up." 

"Then how come you can't do magic?" she taunted, offering him a mocking pout.

"Easy, I'd be too powerful." He ran a hand through blond curls, offering her a self-satisfied smirk. "The Goddess couldn't make me this handsome and give me magical abilities, it just wouldn't be fair on everyone else." 

Mia shoved him, cackling as she flopped back against the bed. "I hate you." 

He smiled down at her, lightly ruffling her hair. "I hate you too, kid." 

"You'll ace it, you know," she said, eyes softening. 

"Mm?" 

She shuffled back up and leant her head against his chest. "There's no way he's not gonna pick you." 

* * *

The door swung quietly shut. 

The room was softly illuminated by candles, painting El's face a golden hue. 

An elegant four poster bed sat in the middle, draped with rich green fabric embroidered with gold. On the wall hung intricate tapestries, the exploits of the ancient heroes painstakingly stitched into them in vivid colour.

His chest seized. 

Scrambling onto the bed with no regard for muddy sandals on silken sheets, he ran his fingers over the woven material, over his own face, stitched right beside El's. 

There they all were: the new heroes of Erdrea, grinning back at him. 

He might as well not be there, though, for the amount of recognition he received for his part in defeating the Dark One. 

His bitterness melted away like fresh snow. 

El's arm around his waist, his head on El's shoulder, twined together in the centre of the tapestry hanging above the elaborate headboard. His hair, blue as the stream behind him, his eyes, only a shade lighter than El's, gazing up at that heroic face. He traced his finger over their figures, then dropped his hand with a sigh. 

It was an intimacy he missed, the feel of El's arm around him, even in the purely platonic manner that it had been. 

Though, now he looked at El's sweet, embroidered face, it did seem a little more than platonic, those soft eyes fixed on the blue boy leaning into him with a warm adoration. He wondered if he'd asked for them to be sewn together, for them to be depicted so close, gazing at each other. 

A weight fell on the bed next to him. 

Wait, _intimacy_. 

He sharply turned his head. 

El quickly averted his gaze, a gentle blush decorating his cheeks. 

Erik shot him a knowing look, still kneeling on the bed. Of course, with the sheer silk of his harem pants, and the intentional skimpiness of his underwear, his majesty would have been getting a fair eyeful. 

"See something you like, your majesty?" 

El gave a nervous bark of laughter. "I could ask the same of you, Saraj." He nodded towards the tapestry. 

"Oh, this old thing?" He ran his fingertips over the sky blue of his hair, the curve of his grin. "This boy is very, very handsome. And the one next to him, I guess he is okay?" He smirked provocatively, sticking his tongue between his teeth. 

El laughed, shaking his head. "Saraj… It's certainly an unusual name." 

Erik slid next to him, bringing a knee up to his chest, spreading his legs slightly to ensure El was sufficiently flustered. He rested his cheek on his knee, eyeing the prince with coy intention. 

It was so easy, dammit, seducing the man of your dreams when you looked like someone else.

"Are you suggesting I gave his majesty a false name?" he murmured, voice smoother than the silk of the sheets below them. 

"No… You're just like a mirage, a desert mirage." 

Erik huffed. "A hallucination brought on by extreme dehydration?" 

El giggled softly, and Erik's heart ached at the sound. How he had taken that beautiful noise for granted. 

El thoughtfully lowered his gaze. "No, not a hallucination. A trick of the light. A flash of gold where really, there is none. Or, there shouldn't be…" 

Erik slowly lifted his head, stomach clenching. 

He desperately groped at coarse hair– still golden, he noted. Rubbed at his arms– still bronzed. Then how could he know? Some kind of Luminary– 

El's eyes widened. He carefully took Erik's hand in his. "Oh, sorry, sweetheart! I didn't mean you were an imposter. I'm bad with words sometimes… I just meant you were beautiful, like sunlight bouncing off the sand. One of nature's mysteries." 

Erik relaxed back down, bravado fading as soft, blue eyes fixed on him in the candlelight. "You really think so?" 

A thumb brushed over his chin, lightly tilting his face up. It was all the response he needed as he leant into his delicate touch. 

"Can you tell me why you're here, sweet? Do you have a debt that needs repaying? Or… someone that needs looking after?" 

Erik shook his head lightly. "I do not desire wealth, I have plenty of gold. I think _you_ need someone to look after you, keep you company. A warmth by your side in the cold Drasilian nights."

El's grip tightened on his hand. "You're here… for me?" 

"I am indeed, your majesty. But you must know, I will not be good. If you want an obedient little slave, I am not for you." He slipped his hand from El's grasp, shifting up to his knees, planting one either side of the prince's thighs. 

He smirked as El's hands found his hips, mesmerised as he glanced down at the sweet face of his prince, gazing up at him, completely enthralled. He chewed at his lower lip thoughtfully. 

"I will not do what you tell me. I am not your property. Understood?" 

El nodded, barely, frozen with his hands on his hips. 

"Good," Erik purred, sinking down on his knees to sit on his lap. He tugged at the heavily starched collar, exposing a sliver of pale flesh. "Why do you wear these ridiculous clothes? I know who you really are, _country boy_." 

El shifted a hand into Erik's hair, toying with a single curl. "I dunno. I'd be much more at home in a grubby tunic and boots." 

Erik swallowed harshly, mouth dry as their faces inched closer together. "Mm, there is only _one_ thing I would like draped around that royal body of yours." 

El's breath tickled his lips in a soft whine, drawing him in closer. Their foreheads pressed together, mouths just shy of meeting. 

"An' what's that," El murmured, eyes hooded, voice heavy. He slid his thumb across the slope of Erik's cheek, over the curve of his mouth, stopping to pull down his lower lip.

He was so close. Far too close. 

"My body, wrapped in your expensive, silken sheets. Or maybe over that nice rosewood cabinet." He touched his lips to El's, gently teasing his mouth over the prince's. "What does his majesty desire?" 

"Whatever makes you feel good, treasure. Whatever you want." 

His lips curled up. 

Maybe karma was real. 

All those years of poverty, guilt and searching for forgiveness. Now this. 

Maybe the Goddess was finally giving him his reward: a certain prince entirely at his disposal. 

And who knew the Luminary was a serving lover? It shouldn't have surprised him, though, the man practically lived and breathed to please others. 

"Hmph. Coward." 

He shoved El back against the bed, pouncing on him like a starved animal. 

* * *

A sleep addled prince stumbled into the bathroom, hair sticking up in all the right directions. 

Sex hair. Sex hair that'd he'd given him as he'd mercilessly tangled his hands in and pulled harder with each thrust, knotting the silky strands into something entirely uncombable. 

A smirk played at his lips. 

He could still feel El's weight on top of him, pinning him down, holding him firmly by his wrists as he thoroughly spoiled him in the silken sheets of his four poster bed. 

His majesty was a lot rougher in bed– and over the desk, against the wall, on the floor– than his sweet demeanour suggested.

He glanced in the mirror and chuckled. 

Knees red raw. Lips bitten and sore. Not a single spot on his neck left untouched by the marks of his partner's desire. 

In El's defense, not that Erik could ever ask him to defend such prowess, he had let out gentle whines and pleas, begging him to fuck him harder, faster– and El loved to please. 

And he did. 

It was a Goddess sent miracle Erik could still walk. 

Though, really, he shouldn't have expected any less from the Luminary of Legends.

Muscular arms wrapped around his waist. Soft lips sloppily found his cheek, entirely missing his mouth. "Are you okay, Sari?" 

"Much better now you're here, my prince." 

"Good." He smiled at their reflection, planting a gentle kiss to his neck. "Can I take you back to bed? For cuddles?" 

Erik giggled in his arms. "What kind of cuddles?" 

"Nice ones," he murmured, pressing more urgent kisses across his exposed collarbone. 

Erik sighed, leaning back into his touch. "Only if you carry me," he muttered indignantly. 

El paused, pressing a final kiss to his ear. 

Erik squealed as he was sloppily thrown over one princely shoulder. He feebly kicked at El's back, exploding into peels of giggles. 

"There's no escape now," El said, throwing him onto the bed and clambering on top of him. 

Erik sighed contentedly as those strong arms arms wrapped around him, flipping then over and bringing him tight against El's chest. 

"Mm, his majesty is too good to me," he sighed, relishing in the press of his partner's skin on his cheek. 

"Nothing's too good for you, my love." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter matches up with the start of the first (it was originally one chapter but I rambled so it's now two). 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this! If you did, be sure to drop me a ha HA, my friend ;) 


	3. Object of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik bathes in the warmth of the prince's bed, lying in the arms of his attentive lover– _his Luminary_. He had everything he could ever ask for... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheeky heads up, this chapter is heavy on the sex. In fact, it's basically all sex. However, I've stayed away from anything super graphic, focusing on Erik's _feelings_ (gay) instead of cock, hence the M, not E, rating!
> 
> So, for those of you asking what happened between them in that room… >:)

Warm lips on his cheek. 

His eyes opened to a familiar soft blue; tousled mousy hair; the gentle slope of a sleepy smile. 

"Good morning, sugar," he purred. 

El giggled, tangling a hand into mussed hair. "Good morning, indeed."

He brought Erik's mouth to his, teasing him with a little tongue– holding back just enough to leave him gasping.

Erik sighed into his mouth, licking over his bottom lip. He drew away with a muffled gasp. 

A familiar twitch between his legs.

_Morning wood._

He quickly rolled over, face heating up as he glanced at the floor. 

El spooned him lazily, stroking his thigh. "Why so shy?" 

"Y-Your majesty, I–" 

Every time he called him that, he couldn't help but feel he was stuck in some cliché roleplay. …Not that he was strictly opposed to that. 

He glanced back at El, cheeks burning. He felt seen. Completely naked. It didn't help that his nightshirt had ridden up entirely, exposing him to El's touch.

El's mouth quirked up, eyes narrowing as he smirked, he _smirked_ , damn him. An expression he'd never seen on him before, but one he relished in, much like the scrunched eyes and sighing mouth of last night's ecstasy.

"I think you're hiding something from me, Sari," he murmured, ghosting his lips over the bruised skin of his neck.

 _Damn_ him. 

This was no Luminary, this was a Darkspawn.

"Can I look at you?" he asked innocently, hand shifting up his thigh. 

Erik hummed quietly, pulse thrumming through his palms as he gripped the edge of the bed. 

A cool draught tickled his bare skin as the sheets were ripped away from him. 

He drew his knees to his chest, hiding his arousal, teeth stuck in his lower lip as he awaited El's reaction. 

El laughed, a low, teasing rumble. He gently pushed up the fabric of his nightshirt, exposing his chest, his thighs, the rest of his curled up figure. He nudged him onto his back, placing a hand on either knee. "Open." 

Erik poked his tongue out through his teeth, eyes narrowed, smirk growing. A dare. 

"Fine, have it your way," he sighed, shifting his hand up Erik's thigh. "I'll just play with you until you do." 

His hand came over a nipple, testing the waters. 

Erik whined gently, melting under his touch. 

For someone who prided himself on his stubbornness, it really took little for him to cave to El. 

Magic Luminary hands, he reasoned. 

Or maybe it was that smile, gleaming down at him. He knew, he just knew, whenever he saw it, that sliver of joy, he could never deny El anything for long. 

* * *

Erik snuggled into his lover's chest, grinning from ear to ear. 

Limbs shaking, pulse racing, he pressed his lips to his skin, over the thrum of his heart. 

El's stamina really did have uses outside the battlefield, even Erik struggled to keep up with him with his lithe, thieving body. And El had been strong before, Erik had keenly noticed, biceps bulging as he chopped firewood, back muscles clenching as he swung the forge hammer. But now, he was somehow bigger, stronger, muscles rippling under all the layers of ridiculous princely clothes. A chiseled country boy in royal dress. 

"I love looking at you," El sighed, stroking a hand up his spine. "All of you." 

Erik giggled, tracing a single digit down his bare chest. "His majesty would like me nude all of the time?" 

"Mm, definitely." He playfully flicked underneath Erik's chin, forcing his jaw up. "What would you like for breakfast, gorgeous?" 

"Mm, whatever you're having." 

"Okay." El gently nudged him off then slipped out of the bed, hastily pulling his clothes on. A crown was shoved onto his head, clumsily sitting on a layer of tousled bed hair. 

Erik shuffled upright, toying with the silk of the sheets. "Ooh, where are we going?" 

El's mouth scrunched at the edges, an expression often seen on Mia's sharp features and decidedly unprincely. Undeniably sweet, though, his cheeks puffed out like a sulking toddler. Silly, childish… _adorable._

"I'm going to a boring meal with a load of old rich men." 

Erik's hand stilled on the sheet. "Oh?" 

"I'll have the servants bring you food up." 

_Servants._ That word didn't sit right in El's mouth. Something twisted in the pit of Erik's stomach. His hand bunched in the sheets. 

El pecked a kiss to his mouth. "Be good." 

"What if I don't want to?" he asked quietly. 

_What did he expect?_ El was a prince now. He didn't have time to spend all day in bed with him. The knowledge didn't lessen the ache in his chest, though, the weight on his heart as he pulled the sheets up over his exposed figure. 

El offered him an apologetic smile, ducking to capture his jaw and kiss him more deeply. 

He hesitantly broke away, eyes shifting towards the door. A heavy sigh. Shuffling feet. 

"Uh, there's one thing…" 

"Mm?" Erik sighed, flopping back against the pillows. 

He tipped his head towards the cabinet. "Please don't go in that drawer," he said solemnly, chewing at his lip. 

"Why?" Erik teased, pouting heavily. "Is that where you keep all your naughty things?" 

El's jaw tightened. 

The wrong joke to make. 

The ache in his chest swelled. 

He'd already upset his prince, and not knowing why just stung all the more. 

There was a time where they could read each other's thoughts, predict their moves on the battlefield, speak the same words at the same time.

No secret drawers. 

He wondered if _Erik_ would be allowed to see the contents. Or if El was an entirely different person now, just like him. 

"Just… Silly old relics," he said slowly, gaze trapped on the floor. "Things that I should've let go of a long time ago." 

Erik pressed his lips together, giving a silent nod. 

"If you need anything, just tell the maid when she brings your food up." 

He nodded again, equally sullen. 

El paused at the door, eyes glistening as they darted back to Erik's face. His brows drew down. "Oh, Goddess, I can't leave you when you look like that. I…" 

He rushed back over, dropping to his knees to steal another deep kiss. 

Erik smiled. Hooking needy fingers into his hair, he held their lips together, greedily keeping El's mouth for himself. 

"Stop," El laughed, playfully pushing him away. "I won't wanna leave." 

"Exactly," Erik hummed, teasing his lips with a chaste press. 

El held a finger over his grinning mouth.

Moments like this made everything worth it. The potions, the witches, the bright blue sick. Waking up next to him, the man he loved. Toying with him. Teasing him. Laughing with him. 

Especially when he was _cheeky_ El. Whether prince or Luminary, he still had his endearing mischievous streak, the one that always filled him with a gentle warmth. And now he got to _kiss_ him, kiss the cheekiness from his lips, bathe in his mischievous glow. 

El kissed the finger over his mouth. "Back soon, 'kay?" He broke away and headed towards the door, this time grinning, eyes no longer glassy and vacant. 

Erik nodded, offering him a sly smile. 

Reluctantly, El pushed at the door, making to leave. 

Erik inhaled sharply. A flash of purple, starkly contrasting with the starched white collar of his shirt. 

"Wait!" 

He leapt out of bed, rushing towards his prince. 

El giggled, rolling his eyes affectionately. "No, Sari, I mustn't!" 

Erik reached his hands up to his collar, carefully straightening it to cover the mark. His fingers worked effortlessly over the buttons, correcting the lopsided fastening.

"As much as I want _everyone_ to know about our love-making, I'm not so sure the _boring old men_ would approve." 

He fastened the final button with flair, then anchored a hand into silky hair and tugged him down for a kiss.

El simply gazed back, eyes filling with a familiar warmth. He tenderly brushed hair from Erik's face. "What would I do without you?" 

Erik wrapped his hand around El's wrist, turning it over in his palm. "Mm, I think his majesty would have a _very_ sore wrist." 

El's chest shook with gentle laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way he loved. Just one of the many things Erik loved about him, a list so ridiculously long it could stretch halfway across Erdrea. 

El sighed, grazing a thumb over Erik's cheek. "That's not the only reason you're here, my love. There's something about you. Something drawing us together, like we're..." His hand wrapped around Erik's. Lips grazed their joined fingers. 

"Partners." 

"P-Partners," Erik repeated, air catching in his lungs. 

El touched his lips to his cheek. 

Then he was gone. 

The door swung behind him, footsteps echoing along the corridor, leaving Erik with a palm pressed to his cheek. 

He bit down on his lower lip, grinning. 

Fuck the drawer, he had everything he needed. 

* * *

  
_"Hmph. Coward."_

Erik's head was yanked down by greedy, less-than-princely hands. Here he was, in El's bedroom, being _kissed_ and _touched_ and _adored_ by the man he loved. The man of his dreams, now a very present reality– his skin on Erik's, mouths touching, a delicious friction igniting between their needy bodies with each grind of their hips. 

Here he was: about to receive everything he craved.

"You think I'm a coward?" he breathed, the soft glow of the candles gently illuminating his features. 

Erik huffed against his lips, forcing their mouths together again. 

Strong hands pushed him away, holding his chin steadily. "Why are you really here?" 

Erik pouted, El's grip too strong to slip out of. A frustration burnt through him, muscles tensing, brow drawing sharply down. 

They were so close. 

He couldn't have this man, this _dream_ ripped from him now. He was a thief, dammit, and he wasn't going to let his most sought after treasure slip through his fingers. 

"To fuck," he spat, pulling harshly at El's hair. 

"Why me?" he asked, eyes glistening in the candlelight. "Why not Sylvando?" 

Erik paused, anger and possessiveness simmering a little. 

"You saw him in the bar earlier. And he said you knew a lot about him… So you must know he's famously good in bed. I'm, I'm not…" El sighed, fingers trembling as he let go off Erik's chin. 

Erik grit his teeth. "I don't want him. I want you," he snarled, diving in and biting at El's lower lip. 

"Because I'm the Luminary?" he protested quietly, voice still vulnerable. 

"I couldn't give two shits about that. I like you. The real you." Erik inhaled sharply, forcing himself to cool down, to not spill over. 

If he started spilling, he wouldn't be able to stop: listing all the ways he admired, appreciated, _adored_ him. His stupid haircut, his silly smile, those adorable ugly green boots. And _Goddess_ , the curve of his biceps, the slant of his _adonis lines,_ the chiseled panel of his abs– the infatuating results of all that greatsword training. Toned muscles that were sculpted to be touched, yet had only ever felt the brush of his eyes while he bathed in the river. 

Until now. 

But revealing his adoration would reveal himself, wave goodbye to Saraj, and hello to Erik. Ignored, mistreated Erik who sought comfort in uncaring strangers who had an intricate knowledge of sewage systems. 

He shut Erik away, bringing himself back to Saraj. Gorgeous, golden Saraj. To his amorous soon-to-be lover. The eager press of his arousal. 

"Mm, you wish me to reward you for your good deeds..?"

He forcefully tugged down El's trousers, his undergarments. It was harder to slip up, to reveal his true self if he had a mouthful of–

A hand cupped his cheek, capturing his attention. "Don't stop being rude. I like it." 

His hand stilled on El's thigh. His gaze darted up to his face. Blue eyes held his. 

El gazed back, lips parted. He shuffled upright, bringing Erik up onto his lap, hands falling to his hips, circling the bare skin of his back. Their foreheads fell together. "You don't have to do that, sweetheart. I still like you anyway. I like you… a lot." 

Erik grazed his mouth over El's, giggling. He was so sweet, naïve… He wondered if he'd ever been with anyone else. Maybe he would be his first.

Or he was just acting innocent, about to give him the shock of his life. 

A grin curved at his lips. 

Time to test the waters. 

One by one, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over them to suck on every digit. 

"You're going to let me take your nice _big_ cock into my mouth, and that's final," he said, slinking off El's lap with an all too self-satisfied smirk. 

El flushed, clearly flustered by _this_ kind of attention. Perfect. 

His smirk only grew as he was greeted by the full view of his twitching arousal. Engorged and begging for his touch. He dipped his head down, capturing him in his mouth. 

The small squeals and whines that escaped El's mouth coursed through his body like lightning bolts, an electrical current shared between two beating hearts. For one usually so quiet, so bashful, El was making a hell of a lot of noise. 

"Oh Goddess–" he cried, fisting at his hair, hips canting up. "You feel just like–" 

Erik lifted his head, cocking an eyebrow. 

"My ex." He bit down on his lip, eyes falling to the sheets. "Sorry, I…" 

Erik's heart thunked to the floor. _Oh_. 

He wasn't the first. 

"Uh, can I give you pleasure too?" he asked quietly. 

Erik gave a slow, lazy lick. "Move me how you want," he mumbled, making little effort to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

He had chosen someone else before him. Another _partner._

El brought him up into his arms, into his lap, messily kissing up the side of his face. "Tell me how you want me, lovely. Demand of me what you need." 

Erik smiled shyly, the flattering press of El's arousal digging into his thigh. 

He couldn't stay mad. 

That man had obviously been inadequate or he'd be here instead, but he had the Luminary now. 

_His loss._

"If I asked you to suck me off, would you?" 

"Of course," El sighed, desperately kissing at his neck. 

"Could I… fuck your face?" he teased, hooking a finger into his own mouth. 

"Mm." El buried his face in his neck, digging eager teeth into the sensitive flesh. 

Erik sucked air through his nose, pushing El's mouth harder against his skin. "Well I don't want that." He pressed his lips to his ear. "I want you. I want you to… _fuck_ me." 

El lifted his head, offering him a faux innocent smile. 

Erik was thrust onto his back, canopy hanging heavily above his head, soft hair tickling his face. 

"Your wish is my command." 

* * *

El kissed a fierce line up his jaw, hips clashing against his. " _Goddess_ , you're beautiful." 

Erik gave only a feeble whine, thighs clenching around El's back. 

Thick, black tears rolled down his cheeks. A sigh was pulled from his lips. 

El was fucking him, _fucking_ him, pleasure ripping through him as a wild storm, obliterating all sense of self. Howling and raging, Erik couldn't anchor himself to the ground, the real world, too caught up in El's intoxicating drift.

The way El touched him, squeezed him, _felt_ him, it was all so tender, so careful, so precise. 

_Loving_. 

That was his prince– offering strangers boundless love and affection. 

Yet it felt so personal, as if El already knew his body intimately, every button to press to send him over the edge. He knew, _damn him_ , he knew every inch _._ Every expert touch, every gentle press, every rough bite, they all sent shuddering pleasure through his body. As if El's hands were made for him, his body made for El's touch.

He was _known_. 

El suddenly paused in his rhythm, lips urgently brushing over Erik's. "Does it hurt?" 

"Not enough." He smiled, delighting in the dark mess of the kohl smudged between their faces. "I have been with many a man and none have been this gentle with me. I would like you to… _ruin me_." 

A rough thrust shook Erik's body, rippling through him like a tidal wave. 

He cried out, nails scraping over his neck. 

His Luminary. _His_. 

* * *

Erik ran a hand over the sheets, feeling the ghost of his partner's warmth under his fingertips. 

The midday sunlight cracked through the curtains, spilling fresh, golden light onto his face. 

He really should leave his lover's bed. Do something other than lying beneath his sheets. But it was home now. A sacred ground. 

The first place they had been together. The place he had become _his_. 

But he needed to get out. Make himself appealing, earn more of his addictive attention. 

He reluctantly peeled himself out of bed, sitting at the mirror, smudging on a thick layer of eyeliner. 

El's shirt fell to the floor. 

A grin spiked at his lips. 

His hands roamed over the bare skin of his chest, feeling the marks of his partner's adoration under his fingertips. 

A glowing, golden figure, painted with patches of deep purple and red. Signs of life, humanity. He was no statue, but a living, breathing object of desire. 

Laughing, he tiptoed over to El's closet, throwing the heavy, wooden doors open with delight. His hand brushed across various expensive cottons, silken shirts, frilled collars. 

His eyes caught on an ornate box at the back. 

Sneaking a thieving hand in, he tugged out a black piece of cloth. It slipped through his fingers. 

_His Corsair coat?_

Why would El have another? That was… odd. 

He slid the box towards him, digging his hands in further. 

A pair of teeny, tiny shorts, embroidered with the same gold and red as the coat. Far too small for underwear to be worn underneath. 

He shimmied them up his thighs, grinning as he admired the tight press of the cloth over his hips. 

His hand dove back in, finding the familiar woven headband and a severely bastardised version of the original shirt: the once frilly, white blouse now sleeveless and gaping at the front, laces loosely hanging over the chest. Almost identical to the laces of his green tunic. 

Erik wondered if that was a fantasy of his, untying those laces and unwrapping him like an extravagant gift. 

A pair of heavy, black boots sat at the bottom. A little taller than the originals. 

He grinned. 

There was no way El didn't like getting stomped on. 

He swiftly tugged everything on, twisting to admire himself in the mirror. 

The slice of a crooked grin. 

That was one sexy pirate, ready to greedily snatch his prince up. The colour of treasure, too: a glittering pile of gold cased in perfectly accented black. 

The length of the coat, and the height of the boots… He nodded to himself. It was a nice contrast to the flashes of bronze of his thighs and chest. 

The colours may have been suited better to blue hair and ashen skin, but he was undoubtedly hot. 

A smouldering, golden buccaneer. 

He jolted. 

Footsteps. Outside the room. 

He jumped back into bed, pulling the sheets up to his nose. 

El wearily entered the room, exhausted face lighting up the second he saw Saraj's figure: half concealed by sheets to reveal a little curve. 

He dropped the paper in his hand. 

" _What_ are you wearing?" 

"Nothin'." Erik buried his grinning face in the pillow, arching his back up to give El a better view. 

El roughly pulled the sheets back, exposing the skin of his thighs, shimmering against the black of the coat. He slid a hand up the fabric, giving him a light squeeze. 

"You've been in my closet," he murmured, pinching a little harder. 

"You like pirates, mm? Who knew the prince had a thing for _criminals…_ " he teased, eyeing him with lust.

"Hm…" El shook his head, tutting loudly. "Naughty." 

He dug into a drawer, pulling out a familiar glass bottle. 

Erik licked his lips. 

The way El was looking at him, the hunger in his eyes, the desperation with which he kneaded him through the shorts– he knew he had made the right decision. He was ready to face any punishment for _that look._

A look he swore he received once before, as Erik, the first time he exited the tent in his swindler outfit and El dropped hot stew all over himself. 

"Give me your hand," he ordered. 

Erik quickly complied. His breath hitched as El dripped cool liquid onto his palm, massaging it into his skin, slicking oil between his digits, up to his fingertips. 

He hummed, letting his eyes fall shut. 

A gentle laugh. The shorts were abruptly ripped down. 

His thighs tensed as a hand, _his own hand,_ pressed between his legs, lightly decorating his inner thigh with a thin sheen of oil. 

"I want you to touch yourself," he simply said. 

Erik could feel his eyes tracing over him, drinking in every detail of his bronzed body offered to him by the scarce coverage of his clothes. 

El's grip on his hand shifted, wrapping around those two fingers, and thrusting them up, _inside._

His eyes flew open, a groan crawling from the back of his throat. He gazed up at El, lips parted, blush burning across his cheeks as he was filled with himself. 

His fingers pushed in further, guided by El's hand, instinctively curling. He let out another muffled groan. 

El smiled. "Good boy," he said, ducking down to give him a quick peck. "You've practised this, haven't you?" 

His cheeked scorched.

He was right. He had. He wondered if El knew how often he'd done that, pressed his fingers up inside himself underneath the tent canvas, thought of him as he touched himself. 

El had even caught him once. Turned over in the night, asking if he was okay after a particularly poorly concealed groan. He'd been pretty far gone by then, and El making eye contact with him while his fingers were inside him, it was overwhelming– far too much. He'd desperately had to pull himself back from the brink, not spill over into his palm. 

After a heated second, or minute– Erik wasn't sure, El spotted the massage oil by his pillow. His face darkened with blush. Stumbling out of the tent, he left with a mumbled excuse. 

Erik only just managed to hold off, _just_. When the orgasm rushed over him, it was so intense that he fell into a deep sleep well before El returned. 

His fingers were shoved in up to the knuckle, an intense heat spiking through him. One entirely different from his time in the tent. One he could never grow tired of. 

His fingers, under El's command. 

He knew just the place to hit and Erik didn't want to know who taught him so well. It was _unbearable._

Instead he focussed on the inviting curl of El's lip, the gentle fall of mousy hair in his face. 

A whimper. 

El's hand snaked through the laces, twisting a nipple between thumb and finger, grin only widening as Erik writhed under his touch. The shift of El's hand around his, between his legs, it was intoxicating. 

To be completely in his power. 

He forced himself up, fisting El's hair, stealing a gasp from his lips. Fighting authority. Taking back a little power. 

El gasped. Suddenly he was the blushing, bashful boy he knew: the shy country bumpkin who would quietly ask if he could have a hug. 

He liked this El. He liked this El _a lot._

In fact, he didn't know which he preferred. 

One thing was clear though, he liked _El_. In all his forms. Stripped back, or covered in finery, he loved this man with every part of him, particularly when he was doing _that_ with his fingers. 

"I'm sorry I was away all day, my love," he mumbled, fingers smoothing over a sore nipple. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." 

He effortlessly slipped from Erik's grip, removing his fingers, dropping to kneel on the carpeted floor. He took the circlet from his head and placed it on Erik's, haphazardly balancing it on top of the bandana, then turned to kiss up his thighs. 

Erik's breath hitched. 

The prince, _his El_ , on his knees, about to do… _that._

"You're so beautiful," El mumbled, lips caressing his inner thigh in gentle, affectionate presses. The kind of touches Erik had only ever _dreamed_ of receiving.

"Any requests?" he said, gazing up at him with those big, blue eyes, sweet face framed by two bronzed thighs. 

_Tell me you love me._

"Tell me you want me…" Erik whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. He wrapped his legs around El's neck, drawing him in, boots pressing against his back. 

"I want you. I want you more than anything. _I need you_."

Erik swallowed. 

He brushed a hand through El's hair, as if to check he was really there, really kneeling between his legs, really about to selflessly offer him pleasure. The strands effortlessly slipped through his fingers, silky and soft and _real._

"You'll have to earn me," he murmured, legs tightening around his neck. 

_I need you._

El smiled, pressing a kiss to his thigh. 

"I know. And I fully intend to, captain." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to include some sexy pirates in there... a man cannot fight his nature. Also Sylv _definitely_ fucks, and apparently everyone in Erdrea knows! 
> 
> Oh, and I can't stress enough how much feedback means to me so please drop a comment or a kudos if you wanna see how this progresses. Thank uu <3


	4. A Passion That Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Erik sneaks out of the castle, a heated discussion ignites between the two lovers, vulnerabilities buried deep rising to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's finally back! :3 I really hope you guys remember what happened in the last chapter ~~coz I sure don't~~
> 
> TW: mention of past emotional abuse. This memory is triggered by El's actions and a parallel is drawn, however _he is not depicted as abusive._ He has no idea that this behaviour would trigger hurtful memories so is just insensitive/ ignorant.
> 
> Oh and this bitch is non-linear! You've been warned >:)

Erik pressed his back against the alcove, breath stilling as two Drasilian guards passed, the clank of their armour echoing through the corridor. 

Breaking out, then back in, to Dundrasil was far too easy. The guards were idiots, as usual. 

Erik still testified that the reason he got caught for the red orb heist was because of Derk's clumsiness… it was sheer bad luck that the guards found him and not his fumbling former partner. 

"King Carnelian, Prince Faris or… The Prince's new friend?" 

Erik tensed, ready to run as soon as their backs were turned. 

The tinhead groaned, slapping a hand to his face. "Well… Sorry old man, I know it's treason an' all, but the beard– nah! Don't do it for me. Oh fuck that leaves Faris, well I ain't marrying him. Far too irritating. Fuck 'im and hope he shuts up." 

"What about the consort?" 

"Well, I ain't into fellas, but… He'd get it." 

Erik rolled his eyes. The only thing he could get from him was a knee in the crotch. 

Mouth twitching, he snuck past the curtain with ease, right behind the guards. Morons. 

An arm crushed his throat– a hand clamping his mouth. He gave a silent yelp, dragged back behind the curtain, not a second to resist. His captor was strong, terrifying. _Fuck._

" _Where_ have you been?"

He sighed back against El, panting steadily slowing. His traitorous body still trembled, though, excited at the prospect of being _kidnapped_ by his Royal Highness. The ringed hand fell from his mouth. 

Time to test his boundaries. 

"I'm not telling you," he cooed, twisting his head back to look at him. 

El laughed against his ear, forcing his head back. "Are you sure about that?" 

"I am _certain._ " 

"Hmph. I suppose I have no choice, then." 

Erik yelped as he was forcibly dragged out into the light of the corridor. 

"Y-Yer Majesty, is everythin' alright?" stammered a guard. 

El's hand snuck up his shirt, twisting his nipple sharply. Erik's chest spiked. 

"Just have some personal matters to attend to." He turned to Erik with a dark glare. "Maybe a night in the dungeons will do you some good?" 

Erik stared at the ground, cheeks burning. 

"O-Oh, would you like us to–" 

"I can escort him myself, thank you." 

El pulled him along the corridor, the stairs to the dungeon looming on his left. He paused. Erik held his breath. As much kinky potential as there was down there, castle dungeons really weren't his favourite places. 

El laughed as he pulled him past the stairs, to his wing, to his room. 

"On the bed, now," he ordered. 

Erik sat on the bed, pouting. He was thrust back, his hands pulled above his head. The clink of metal, of handcuffs. 

"Since I can't trust you to know where you're supposed to stay." 

Erik's breathing quickened, head buzzing. He glanced up at his intimidating, intoxicating, _gorgeous_ captor, unsure of what kind of kinky punishment he was about to face.

He offered him his snarkiest grin. 

Apprehension tingled in his fingertips, spiking through his veins as bright, hot lightning. 

"Where were you?" he spat, gripping his chin with a leather clad hand. 

"Go to hell," Erik hissed, voice wavering slightly. 

"Oh, you will," he said with a smirk, "when you see what I have in store..." 

* * *

Erik fussed with his hair in the mirror. "It's amazing, honestly. All we do is have sex and…" He tugged at a curl, delighted in the way it sprung back. "Yeah. That. Oh and he's got a massive–" 

"Is that seriously _all_ you do?" Mia interjected, perched on the edge of the bed, arms folded sharply. Somehow, she looked even more pissed off than usual, every angle of her being pointed with angry precision. 

"Well, not all, I mean…" He licked his finger, smoothing at the edge of his eyeliner. Still not perfect. He turned away from the mirror with a sigh. 

Mia raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, we must have…" Erik tapped a finger to his lips. "I am not entirely sure, my frien–" 

Mia slapped her hands against the mattress. "Quit it with that stupid fucking accent! I HATE it!" 

Erik winced. "Sorry. It's hard to snap out of it when I've been talking like this for a week straight. Heh. I almost feel like I am Saraj." He swiped a hand over blond curls. "You okay, kid?" 

Mia glanced up at him, eyes heavy as they met his gaze. "I don't like Saraj. I want Erik back."

"Oh baby, come here?" Erik tugged a reluctant Mia into his arms, squeezing gently. 

"He's treating you like a toy," she muttered, not moving to push him away. That was unusual. And a little worrying. "Or, or a pet. Some kinda exotic pet he keeps chained up in his room."

Erik moved his arm a fraction. "Hey, he doesn't chain me up–" 

"You're my big brother," she said voice wavering as if she were about to cry, "you deserve more than some prince perving on you." 

"I like it. I like him touching me." 

"Do you really?" Mia threw his arm off. "Or do you wanna be in love, get married, have his babies, y'know?" She angrily swiped at her eyes. "Dammit, Erik, stop looking in the mirror! You look fine!" 

"Sorry." He balled a fist, forcing his eyes shut. "And of course I do, but that kinda shit doesn't happen to people like me." A brittle grin split his lips. "There's no fairytale ending, so I'm not gonna wait like some damsel in distress until my handsome prince comes and snatches me up, I… I have to snatch him first. Deceive him. It's the only way."

"I heard you _were_ a damsel in distress," Mia teased lightly, prodding his arm. "Tied to a pole by some evil Knight, rescued by your beloved prince. Put you in a pretty dress then fuck you, did he?" 

A gentle laugh shook his body. "I wish."

They both sighed. A stillness settled in the room. 

"I'm sorry, Erik," she mumbled. 

_Mia… Apologising..?_ Now that really was concerning. 

"I shouldn't have made you feel bad about it. I just wanna look out for you, y'know. No one hurts my brother, especially not himself." 

He offered her a weak smile. "I know, kid. And thank you, for lookin' out for me. I just wanna enjoy every single second of his attention while he still wants me… Yeah?" 

Mia groaned.

" _Stupid gay doofus_ ," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. 

"Hey, who are you calling gay–" 

The gold door handle turned abruptly, startling them both. 

"Alors, it was so, so easy to–" 

The blonde woman gasped, clutching a bottle of gilded whisky to her chest. Her bob swayed at her sudden flinch. 

"Shut the door!" Mia hissed. She groaned loudly. "It's just my brother… He's uhh… adopted." 

Mia scowled at the grin on Erik's face. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur. I am Zazie." She offered him a polite curtsey, then dropped to the bed. She turned to Mia, pouting. "Oh, ma chérie, why so quiet?" 

Mia buried her head in her chest, saying nothing. Zazie stroked her hair sweetly, mumbling words of a language Erik couldn't quite grasp. 

Erik slipped the bottle from her hand. "Mm, nice quality," he hummed, turning over the gold embellished bottle in his hands. He promptly set it down on the side. "So she's already got you stealing stuff for her, huh?"

Mia glared. A less than subtle hint. 

"Right, I'm off," he sighed, stretching his arms above his head, pushing to his feet. "You two have fun! And don't forget, be safe–" 

A pillow hit him square in the face. 

Mia cackled. "Yes!"

"Hey, not the face!" he said indignantly. 

She jerked her head towards the door. "Piss off, then?" 

Zazie giggled, arm closing around Mia's waist. "You are so rude to him!"

"I know. He deserves it." 

Erik rolled his eyes, slipping through the door like a shadow. He smiled, leaning against the other side. "Good job, Mia." 

* * *

"You have a sister?" El said quietly, stroking a thumb over one of his reddened wrists. 

He's broken him down so easily. All it had taken was a little teasing with those torturous fingers, pushing him to the edge only to refuse to satiate him if he didn't answer his questions. 

He'd caved in an instant. 

"She's got a girlfriend now," he said wearily. "One who clearly loves her." 

_Unlike you. You don't love me._

El sighed, pressing a kiss to the tender skin. "It must be nice. To be in love again."

Erik's chest rose sharply. "You've been in love?" 

"Haven't you?" El smiled sleepily, cupping Erik's face. "You're gorgeous, you must have been." 

_Gorgeous._ He'd always wanted El to call him that. But now it was hollow. Meaningless. 

He longed for times passed, for complements that meant something. Fondly, he held onto one particular memory of their journey: the time El broke down, crumbling under the pressure of Luminary duty, inconsolable even to Sylv's hugs and Rab's ridiculous stories of his youth. So Erik had done his best to replicate Amber's stew, just as El had taught him. Soon smelling the gently bubbling pot from across camp, El rushed over to hug him, tears in his eyes. 

_"This smells gorgeous, Erik. Thank you so much!"_

Erik swallowed the thought. Love. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about, not lingering on times gone. _Love–_ he supposed he could talk about that. 

"Sorry, you don't have to tell me," El mumbled. "I've already forced enough out of you for one night." 

"No, it's fine, uh, yes… I have! He was the world's worst thief." He smiled distantly. "Whenever we had sex, he'd last… _maybe_ two seconds then fall asleep. One time he even fell asleep during. And he was into some weird shit, always wanting to touch my feet. But when he fell asleep, snoring louder than any self-respecting cyclops, I'd have the stupidest grin on my face. Because he was my useless thief." The smile faded. "Well, I thought he was mine… "

It was vivid. Bright, white moonlight scattered between the rotting planks of wood. The cries of the drunken street brawl below them. The cut of icy wind through his tunic. But none of that had mattered. 

Because Derk had put a ring on his finger and promised him all of Erdrea. 

Then left him. 

In that cell, half-starved, at the mercy of the cruel whims of the bored Heliodoran guards. He'd waited, squeezing the ring tight into his fist as if it was something far more precious than a scrap metal band salvaged from the dump. 

He waited. 

Derk moved on. 

El brushed his hand over his cheek. "I'm sorry." 

"It is… No problem." Erik caught the hand. "I am well accustomed to loving men beyond my reach." 

"Well I think you're lovely." El slowly slid his thumb down the slope of Erik's cheek. A movement that caused his whole body to shudder. 

He quickly turned away, nuzzling his head into the safety of the pillow, throat stinging. He couldn't bear to look into those eyes any longer, feel the uncomfortable heat of his gaze. It was only a matter of time before he realised, Erik guessed, and cut both him and Saraj out of his life forever. 

He jumped at the press of El's mouth into his neck. It burned. 

"A nice fuck, your Majesty?" he offered shakily. 

El grinned into his neck. "A very nice fuck." 

The warmth left his skin. 

"Anyway, I have some business to attend to." 

"Excuse me?" Erik spluttered. 

"Prince stuff." El kissed his cheek then stood up. 

"You are seriously just going to leave?!" Erik sharply sat up. "So you just… Chain me to your bed, touch me, then leave me? Fuck. You." 

El leant in to kiss his mouth. Erik roughly shoved him away. 

He smirked at the shock apparent on El's face, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. A face that betrayed a lack of challenge from others, one used to getting its own way. 

He frowned. "It's not my fault you've been disobedient." 

"I told you at the start: I am _nobody's_ slave." 

He didn't know why he was reacting so strongly, surely he should be used to El leaving him in the room alone, it was routine? All he knew was that his blood boiled, body scorching hotter than a Gallopolitan summer. 

"I treat you like a slave?!" El scoffed, pacing the room in a circle. Pausing, he shot him a furious glare. "Do you realise how offensive that is? How fucking spoilt you sound?!" 

"You don't know what it's like to be in that position," Erik said, voice coming out much smaller and quieter than he'd wanted. 

El was right, this was nothing like the hell him and Mia had endured growing up. It was an entirely different sort of entrapment. One of his own making. 

"Oh, and you do?" El growled, advancing towards him, forcibly tilting Erik's chin up. "I've had enough of this. I'm leaving." 

Erik glared back, heart racing. Him and El never fought, _ever._

Every nerve ending spiked across his body, fists balling. 

El shook his head, roughly withdrawing his hand, disbelief marring his brow. "If you hate it so much here, why don't you just fucking leave?" He stormed towards the door, sharply jerking it open. "Go on. Leave." 

"I…" 

Chief. Chief had said something similar, offering to let him and Mia walk away, brave the harsh eternal winter alone if they were tired of working so hard. To starve. 

"I'm waiting." 

"I think I'd rather stay," he conceded, glancing down at his lap. "...Your majesty." 

The cold without El would be unbearable. Blistering. He'd sooner melt in the heat of his gaze than brave the storm alone. 

"As I thought," he said smugly. "I'll be back in two hours." 

The door slammed shut. Erik fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

* * *

Erik pressed a kiss to his lover's cheek, confident that the light brush wouldn't awaken him. He always managed to sleep through Veronica's yelling, so Erik was sure not even a thunderstorm could wake a slumbering Luminary. 

He started– El turning in his sleep, grasping for somebody who wasn't there. 

"Er-ih…"

Erik's heart stuttered. _Surely he couldn't have figured him out already?_ He'd been careful. Covered his tracks, eradicated all forms of Erik from body and mind– 

He shook the thought from his head. No, he was just mumbling in his sleep. Sometimes they had an impromptu snuggle on the road, so he was probably confused… Or dreaming of times passed. 

Swiftly, he shoved a pillow between those wanting arms, watching on adoringly as El snuggled into the fabric. 

"Sof…"

A fond smile tugged at his lips. "Sure is, partner." 

His hand clamped his mouth. _Shit_. That wasn't in the faux Faris accent. If El hadn't been asleep, he would've blown his cover. 

Hastily, he scribbled a note. Then scrunched it up. His handwriting, El would recognise his handwriting. He quickly wrote out another, taking care to disguise the handwriting this time. 

_Off on important business,_

_Back soon your Majesty,_

_A thousand blessings,_

_~ your Sari_

Setting down the note, he snuck towards the door before that adorable sleeping figure could draw him back in. He had to see Mia, he hadn't seen her in weeks. As sweet as El looked, she had to come first. 

Then–

"Erik!" 

Erik glanced back. El sat up in bed, eyes wide open, lower lip trembling. "Where's my Erik?"

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat. He glanced between El's hunched figure and the door. Then rushed back to his partner. 

El stared straight through him, eyes glassy. A night terror, most likely. Something he got a lot after the destruction of his home. Something he often forgot about in the morning. Erik prayed it was one of these cases. 

"It's okay, partner. I'm here," he said, talking as Erik would. 

El sniffed. "But I left you! I left you! How are you here? You can't be!" 

Erik's eyes widened. Left him… That didn't make sense. He racked his brain. 

"Oh, shit. _Gondolia_." 

Erik lightly set his hands on his shoulders, stroking his thumbs over exposed skin. "You didn't leave me babe, you came back for me, remember?" 

"I couldn't," El protested, gripping the duvet with white knuckles. "I can't go back. I lost you, I'm never going to see you ever, ever again–" 

"Hey, It's just a bad dream, partner. You never left me." 

"A bad dream?" El's eyes widened. "You mean…" 

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?" 

"It never happened?" 

"No, it never happened," Erik said firmly. 

"Y-Yeah." El smiled shakily. "You are here." He laughed. "My Erik." 

"I am. And I think you need some sleep." 

El hummed as Erik gently helped him back down onto the mattress, stroking his hair as he settled down. 

"You be good, angel. I'll…" Erik swallowed thickly. "I'll just be over there, mm-kay?" 

El curled back under the duvet. "T-Thank you." 

"No problem, partner. I'll see you soon." 

El breathed heavily, already fast asleep. 

Erik bit his lip, guilt gnawing at his insides. 

If there really was a Goddess above, he'd pray for two things tonight: Mia to be grateful for his visit and his prince to sleep soundly, free of bad memories. Oh, and for El not to remember a single word he said. 

* * *

Erik ran his hand over the wide expanse of the empty bed, the pain in his chest swelling, unbearable. It had been well over four hours, twice the length El told him in the heat of their argument. 

Cold. The bed was cold. Maybe he'd already been dumped in the snowdrift, cold and alone. The way his parents left him. Maybe a guard would enter, tell him to pack his things and leave, cast him out into the unknown. 

The door swung open abruptly, clumsily shuddering behind the intruder. Tensing, Erik didn't dare look up– not at least until he'd composed himself. He took a deep breath. 

A loud crash startled him from his position. El lay on the floor, groaning. 

Like lightning, Erik shot to his side and helped him to his feet, then back onto the bed. His breath reeked of spirits, a little red wine dribbling down his chin. 

Erik sighed heavily, propping up his back with cushions. "Are you going to be sick?"

El shook his head sloppily, veering off to one side. He righted his posture for him with shaking hands. 

A nauseated feeling turned Erik's stomach. El always hated drinking, usually sticking to one cider before returning to water, the sober friend who helped peel the others off the ground. Seeing him– the saviour of this world– so out of control was jarring. And a little upsetting, too. A waste. 

"Right, well I am going to tie your hair back, just in case." Erik took a band from the side table, deftly securing his hair from his face. "Wait here, I am going to fetch a bowl and plenty of water." 

Erik only got halfway across the room before: "You should leave." 

He sharply turned his head, not ready to have the same argument again, especially while he was so drunk. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he pressed forwards. 

"I'm not a good person, Sariiiii…" El tumbled back onto the cushions. "I'm bad. Person. You…" he pointed shakily, arm swaying, "deserving better." 

Erik heaved out a sigh. "You're not a bad person." 

"I'm a terrible…" He swayed forwards.

Erik rushed to his side, kneeling in front of him before he could fall. "No, I won't have that. You saved everyone. You saved me." He pressed an urgent kiss to his lips, wincing at the sticky residue sitting there. "Give me two seconds, angel." 

Erik rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a bowl and filling a glass of water to the brim before dashing back to his prince's side. 

"Sip this, slowly. I'll get you into your bed clothes." 

Shockingly, El did as he was told, taking small sips of water. Erik carefully took his trousers off. 

Then came the ruffle of his hair. A noisy giggle. "Are you gonna give me a blowjob?" 

Erik scoffed. "No." 

El reached down to pinch his cheek. "Are you still all grumpy? Mister grumpy-lumpy?" 

"No, I'm worried. And let me make something very, very clear." Erik tugged his trouser legs over the ends of his feet. "I will _never_ engage in anything sexual with you while you are drunk." He grabbed his sleep bottoms and roughly tugged them up his legs. "Is that understood?" 

"Why?" El asked, voice suddenly small. 

"Because," Erik said, standing up, steadying El's face to look up at him. "How the _fuck_ are you supposed to consent if you can't even hold your head upright?" Erik sharply tugged his shirt off his body. 

El winced. "Sorry." 

"You don't need to apologise, baby. Just," Erik groaned in frustration, settling on the bed next to him, "remember: respect me and respect yourself. Okay?" 

El nodded, tears in his eyes, suddenly a whole lot younger. Much like the sixteen year old boy he met in prison, naive and afraid. This was no Prince or Luminary, but a scared boy with those titles thrust upon him. 

Erik curled an arm around his waist, stroking his stomach lightly. "I think it's time for bed, don't you?" 

El nodded sluggishly. "M'sorry."

Carefully lowering him down, Erik helped him into the sheets. "Don't be silly, you're fine." 

"I do treat you like a slave," he mumbled, head tucking into the pillow. 

"No you don't, just… More like a commodity, I guess?" Erik said soothingly, stroking his hair. 

El's head perked up. "Oh! Well I pinky, pinky promise never to treat you like a cup of tea ever again!" 

Erik couldn't help but smile, taking his outstretched pinky. "Would you like a cuddle, babe?" he asked softly.

"Don't deserve it," El mumbled, head slumping back down.

"Well, I think you do. And I'd like to hold you, if that's okay? Look after my prince?" 

El smiled sleepily, planting his head firmly in Erik's chest. 

"It'll be okay, angel, everything's going to be all okay," he whispered, hands stroking over El's hair. 

El hummed into his shirt, content. 

* * *

His prince: sleeping soundly, hands wrapped in the duvet, sweet smile lighting his face. Erik smiled back at him, ruffling his hair. "Cutie." 

The faint whiff of alcohol still tainted the air. A reminder of last night's vulnerability. 

"Sari…" He mumbled, lifting his head from the pillow, hair sticking up in all directions. 

Erik grasped the water from the side. "I'm right here, babe. Come, drink." 

El sleepily shuffled up, allowing Erik to bring the glass to his lips. He greedily slurped it down, gulping noisily as if he hadn't drank in days.

Erik laughed softly, setting the glass down back on the side. He wiped El's lips with a thumb. "Sorry I just… Like looking after you." 

"Oh yeah?" El prodded, "How about like this?" He pounced on Erik, pinning him down against the mattress. 

He sighed as El peppered his neck with small kisses and gentle nips, content as he was held down by the weight of his partner. His reward for last night's work, he supposed. One he was going to thoroughly enjoy. 

"Sorry about yesterday," he sighed. "Should never have told you to leave. _Especially_ when you look this good." 

"It's fine, baby," Erik replied, smiling softly. "You were just drunk." 

El continued to kiss his neck. A faint huff of laughter grazed his throat. "What are you talking about?" 

"When you stumbled in last night, off your face?" Erik groaned, pushing up on his elbows. "Do you not remember?" 

"Should I?" he murmured, moving his lips up the side of Erik's face, nudging the shell of his ear. 

A discomfort grew in Erik's chest. "Well, maybe I mean…" 

"Stop talking," he interrupted. "It's ruining the mood." 

Erik bit his lip. El's fingers grazed his hip bone, toying with his sleep shorts. He pressed against him, already a little hard. 

El smirked down at him. "Do you want it?" 

Erik thought carefully. 

_…Did he?_

Now he knew El didn't remember last night's exchange, or was pretending not to (he wasn't sure which option was more infuriating) an unbearable itch writhed under his skin, seeking release. 

Maybe this would be a good distraction. 

"Sure."

El bit his cheek. "You don't sound sure." 

"Yeah, well… Shut up. Over the cabinet, now," Erik muttered. "So I don't have to look at your stupid face." 

El raised an eyebrow. "Okay grumpy, if you insist." 

* * *

"You feel so good." 

Erik grunted, cheek pressed up against the wood of the cabinet. 

The way El pounded into him barely registered at this point. _This is what he wanted. To be treated like a toy._ Mia was right. He really was stupid.

The increased urgency of El's whines and moans told him he was nearly at the edge. A sound he still cherished. But it was for Saraj, the handsome seducer who lived purely to worm his way into royal chambers, not Erik, who loved this man with such an intensity that it _burned_ when he called out someone else's name as he reached climax. 

"S-Sari–" 

The tremble of his fingers in Erik's, no Saraj's hair. Mm, he guessed that was nice. 

A final, feeble thrust. 

El curled over him. "You okay?" 

"You gonna take it out anytime soon?" he muttered. 

It felt good, to have El inside him. But also awful. Like he was a used item. 

El drew away from him, wordless. 

He stood, bent over, empty, pointless. He craved El's touch, but somehow loathed it. It hurt, to be touched like this. Enjoyed by him. Burnt by his desire. 

El's hand gently traced his skin with a damp cloth, wiping his mess with his usual care. Erik grit his teeth. 

The second El turned away, he snuck into bed, pulling the sheets over him, safe from his touch, his penetrative gaze. A muffled sob. His chest spasmed. He bit into the pillow. 

El would be leaving soon. He wouldn't notice. He was basically just a servant, serving a different kind of need. 

El rushed to the side of the bed. "Are you alright, my love?" 

"J-Just sleepy," he mumbled. 

"Mm? I'll just clean up your mess because if it dries on there–" He stood by the cabinet. "Oh? There isn't any…" 

"Dry orgasm." 

"Again?"

"Mmph." 

El shook his head, falling down to his knees. He drew back the covers, Erik's protective shield. His face crumpled. "You're crying! Oh, what's wrong, my love?" 

Erik hiccuped weakly. "I can't tell you." 

"Hey, don't be silly! Of course you can." He shook his head again, blissfully unaware. "It's not something that happened last night, is it? I'm sorry I came in drunk, it's just those meetings get so dull I need something to get me through."

"No," Erik mumbled, "but that doesn't sound healthy." He took a shuddering breath, tear stained face poking out from beneath the sheets. "It's more… When are you going to get bored of me?" 

It wasn't a lie. A thought that plagued him each time they had sex. One that pierced through his heart like fiery needles. 

"Is that really what's upset you?" El paused, shaking his head slowly. "Oh Sari, I know I'm awful at showing it but… I _adore_ you. I could never get bored of you. You're stunning, silly, so much fun and above all… Very sweet." 

El's kiss stung his cheek. 

"Why did you tell me to leave, then?" Erik asked quietly. 

El sighed heavily, eyes falling shut. "Because I was upset. I don't want you to leave. I never want you to leave." His eyes flew open, hands waving in front of him. "N-Not in a creepy way, you can always leave if you want to, I won't hold it against you. Fuck, I'm really butchering this, aren't I?" 

Erik's heart swelled. This was the silly, scatty El he loved. The princely facade gone. He fought to keep his expression neutral, partially burying his face in the pillow. 

"I like you, Sari. I like you a lot." He reached a shaking hand towards him, then quickly drew it away. "Uh, you want to know why I picked you?" 

"Because I have a nice ass?" he sighed.

"No," El said, disbelief cracking his voice. "The others, they were bastards on all accounts. Except you, and the Sniflheim boy, the one you looked after. That's why I chose you. Because you're so caring and…" El pinched his cheek. "And a little cheeky, too. Not afraid to defy authority." 

"Really?"

"Of course. I'm almost glad we argued yesterday because…" His mouth scrunched at the corner. "It's embarrassing for me to admit, but, I'm not used to people questioning my authority. And I miss that, it keeps me grounded. I hate people thinking I'm more important than them." 

Erik furrowed his brow sceptically. "You didn't seem very pleased at the time." 

"No, well… I guess I was just a little jealous that you were spending time with someone else. Which is ridiculous and childish because she's your sister but…" El released a long sigh. Something was bothering him, Erik could tell. 

"Goddess… Could you explain what you meant by the slave comment? So I understand. Because that really upset me. One of my friends… Uh, nevermind." 

Guilt twisted in Erik's gut. 

"I'm, well, I… I was being a little dramatic. It's more like… I feel like a broken doll. Each time…" He scrubbed at his eyes, smearing inky black across his hand. _Fuck_. Yesterday's eyeliner. He must look a mess. 

"E-Each time we have sex I break a little more. I feel like I'm going to shatter. And I don't know why." 

_Liar._

He knew exactly why. 

Love. 

Love stung more sharply than any stab to the chest he'd ever received. 

El's eyes widened with realisation. "El you _idiot!_ " He smacked a palm to his cheek. "Those dry orgasms… You didn't even climax, did you?" 

"I hate lying to you," Erik said. Though really, it was a response to an entirely different question. 

"I know, sweetheart, I know." El scrabbled for both his hands, squeezing tightly. "People, they can't be broken. But if they're not cared for properly, they can feel like they are. So, the question is: how can I make my Sari feel whole again? Like the happy, confident boy who strolled into my chambers?" 

A strangled gulp. Ugly crying, he was _ugly crying_ : eyeliner smeared down his face, cheeks red and raw. He'd never cried this openly in front of El, ever. Or anyone, really. 

The one time he had crumbled in front of him was a quiet whimper in the Snærfelt, consumed by guilt and mourning for Mia. Wordless, El had tapped his shoulder and opened his arms out. Erik shook into his chest. 

But now he was unsure. Uncharted territory. 

"I don't know, I… The whole time I've been here, I haven't left your room. Except when I walked out two days ago." He scrubbed at his face, streaking eyeliner across the back of his hand. 

El held onto his hand tightly, eyes close to spilling over as he listened attentively. 

"I'm a person, El– Y-Your Majesty." Erik sighed. "I don't like cages, even if they're pretty on the inside." 

" _Shit._ " El's lip trembled. "I'm sorry, I don't know how I... I'm so, so sorry…" A single tear fell. His throat bobbed. "How about… I take you somewhere nice... Anywhere, anywhere you want to go. Away from this…" he glanced around the room, "prison." 

"Y-Yeah? That might be nice." 

"Anywhere you like. I can zoom us there. And…" El kissed his hand. "My lovely? A ban on intimacy. I can certainly do without it, I've taken you far too much for granted. And I'd like to do the opposite, spoil you." 

El tickled under his chin, eliciting a giggle and a playful squirm. 

Erik smiled. "You'd really give that up? For me?" 

"It's not as if I'm chopping off an arm or leg," El teased, though there was an undertone of brittle sadness to his voice, as if he could shatter any second. "Let me just grab something, sweet pea." 

He pulled out a drawer. Erik's breath caught in his throat. The _secret drawer_ was just below. He quickly averted his eyes. 

El settled back on the bed, clutching a brightly illustrated magazine. He handed it to Erik with quivering hands. "For you! Um, it's one of those cheesy travel guides." 

Erik sat up and slowly leafed through. _Foreword by Prince Faris._ He grimaced. He could practically hear the image: his irritating mouth wide open in laughter, that famous thumbs up, the eye closed in a clumsy wink. 

El looked at him expectantly, eyes still a little teary. 

"Come." Erik patted the bed behind him. 

El gleefully shuffled over, squashing Erik in the embrace of his legs. A damp cheek pressed against his. 

Erik traced his finger over the glittering dunes of Gallopolis. 

"You want to go home, Sari?" 

Erik laughed softly. "That's not my home." He nuzzled back against El's warmth, smiling. "There's someone else's I'd like to visit, though."

* * *

The water soothed his skin, coating him in a comforting warmth. Away, they were going away from the confines of the castle. Away from this continent, even. A smile bloomed across his face. 

Then he looked down. And groaned. Prickly blond hairs were already poking out through his skin. As badly as he wanted to wax them all off to save himself the trouble of shaving, the unbearable pain of the last time ran fresh through his mind. 

Carefully cupping the skin, he gingerly ran the blade over the curve of one ball. 

The door opened. He winced. Fresh crimson pooled at his fingertips. 

"You okay, lovely? You've been in there a while, the bags are packed and–" His face fell. "You're bleeding!" He opened the shower door, hastily putting his hand on the small nick. A green glow flooded the cubicle, water falling over his body like healing vines. Soothing. 

El sighed, drawing his hand away. "You don't need to do that." 

Erik cracked a grin. "His majesty is into hairy beasts?"

"I like hairy beasts if they're happy. That's the only thing that really matters to me." 

Erik rushed forward and dove in for a kiss, soaking El's tunic. El wrinkled his nose, but quickly returned the kiss. He really was adorable. 

Times like these made him realise just how much he wanted to please him, give him anything and everything he asked for. 

"Will his Majesty be joining me?" 

"To wash your hair?" 

"Mm?" 

El slipped out of his clothes and into the shower. Gently, he turned Erik around. He half expected to be shoved against the wall, but no– El's hands gently traced suds down his back, massaging him soothingly. Erik sighed. El's hands, the same hands that like to spank, bind him in rope and pull his hair, caressed him softly. As if he was something precious. 

More than a charlatan in disguise. 

El giggled. "You like being pampered, mm?" 

"Maybe…" 

El kissed his temple. "Well, I've got plenty more of that for you, Sari. Just you wait." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule #1 of a relationship: _communicate_. These fuckign silly, emotionally guarded.... Boys... 
> 
> This is definitely an unhealthy relationship, as although they've talked there are still _big secrets_ being hidden...
> 
> I hope you're happy to see mirage back! I have lots of plans for this fic so if the demand is still there... Prepare for a full emotional rollercoaster >:)
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies, hope to see you again soon <3


	5. Falling Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El and Erik (or is it _Saraj_?) break away from the confines of the castle, but can they run from the shadows looming over them? Especially when some linger closer than others...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thank you for the lovely feedback last time, here's another dose of feels for y'all <3  
>  _finally some plot..._ Heheh 
> 
> OH and a cheeky reminder– Karl is the Sniflheim boy from the ~~thotolympics~~ consort competition (with the sick sister)
> 
>  **TW:** one reference to past unspecified abuse, a past ED and mild alcohol misuse? (I promise these are background themes and _do not_ dominate the chapter)

Erik blearily rubbed his eyes. A throbbing echoed in his skull, distant laughter pulling at the edge of his memory. 

He opened his eyes. A blur– shapeless colour. He blinked twice. Hard. Still the same. _Blind?_ The world swirled with blue and gold, vision shimmering with something sharp. 

He shot up. Panic shook his body. His stomach tensed. Fist clenched. He retched loudly, painfully, but nothing came up. Nothing made sense. _Why could he only see colour?_

Running footsteps. 

" _Sari–_ " came the wobbling echo. Distant, underwater. Wavering. 

_Had he fallen into the sea?_ It would explain all the blue… and the gold. The gold, glittering sand swirling with the curve of the waves. Almost serene. If it wasn't so terrifying. 

A hand took his. Erik cursed. Livid, sharp, pain stabbed through his chest, spreading like poison through his veins. He cried out. 

Then it cleared, the waves parting. The rug pulled from under him. 

His eyes fell shut. _Breathe_. But he couldn't, he couldn't breathe, chest tightening as he strained to take in breath. A living, breathing nightmare. 

The mattress creaked underneath him. He flinched. A palm on his face. He slowly exhaled. Opened his eyes. 

El, perched on the bed in… Country air– Fresh green trees– _Cobblestone?_ That wasn't right. They were supposed to be in–

It didn't matter. El's eyes were red raw. Cheeks rough and scrubbed. He needed someone to take care of him. 

Erik took another breath. "Sorry," he croaked. 

El brushed a thumb over his cheek. "Please. I was so worried." 

"Wh-what happened?"

El withdrew his hand, eyes closing. "You fell." 

Erik winced. Fell. Fall. Fallen. _Why did those words hurt so much?_

"How about I get you something to eat, mm? You haven't eaten a thing in days." 

"Days?!" 

El nodded. "You've been gone a while, lovely." He brushed a hesitant kiss to his cheek. As if he could break under such a delicate touch. 

Erik stuttered a breath. 

"I'll be back soon," he whispered, moving to stand. "Promise." 

* * *

El dove forward, stealing his mouth with a heated kiss. His lips: hot and wet, trailing down his neck, caressing the smooth skin with soothing presses. Saraj sighed, falling back, bathing in the adoration of his partner's worshipping touches. Gentle and serene, like a midsummer evening, filled with a pleasant warmth. 

He stroked an idle hand over the nape of his neck. Not quite satisfied. Needing more. 

Greedy hands grasped a handful of El's hair, tugging harshly to pull their mouths flush. Twisting the hair in his fist, he gasped, feeling El grip his hips so hard their bodies were crushed together. Inseparable. 

Saraj kissed him more deeply, hotly, stealing a groan. 

El pushed back. 

"Sari, I…" he laughed sheepishly, ducking out of his reach. "I have a problem."

Saraj glanced down at the cause of his embarrassment. He smirked. 

"I don't see _that_ as a problem," he murmured, hooking a hand into the back of El's hair. "But I do know the perfect solution." He shuffled down the bed, finding bare, aroused flesh, slipping out of his sleep shorts. 

"Wait!" El grimaced. 

Saraj gazed up with fiery eyes of hot sun. 

"We can't do that." El slowly eased himself off his body, moving to stand by the bed. 

Saraj's mouth watered, a little drool glistening on his lip. His partner, in full, naked glory, erect cock beckoning him closer. _Delicious_. 

But something was wrong. And he was going to listen intently. 

"I made you a promise… One I intend to keep." He picked up his towel, heading towards the bathroom door. "Back in two seconds, my love." 

Saraj sat back in the bed, rolling his eyes. El was right, but the stubborn idiot in him couldn't admit it. Maybe there was still a little Erik left in him. 

And it was cute, him refusing pleasure on principle, sticking to his word: another thing he would never tell him. 

He gazed up at the ceiling, eyes running over the bamboo rafters. 

The buildings were different here: crafted of wood and hand woven fabrics, natural. Completely opposed to the heavy stone of Dundrasil: a bricked up prison filled with ornate fabric that carried a slightly unnatural sheen. 

He wouldn't mind staying here forever. 

The sunset had faded, only a sprinkle of golden sun dotting the horizon. The night here was neither bleak nor frightening, but warm and welcoming. Cozy. The sky glowed a soft violet, glittering with constellations he knew every name of. 

He wasn't sure when he got up to stare out the wooden shutter, but here he was. Enjoying the view, the warm, but not stifling, breeze. Content. 

Arms slotted around his waist. Lips on his cheek. 

He scoffed. "Have a nice wank?" 

"Not really. Not when I knew there was such a gorgeous thing waiting for me in bed."

"I'm not in bed," he retorted, leaning back into his lover's embrace. 

But El didn't laugh, simply kissing his temple instead. 

Erik looked up. His lover was gazing into the sea, eyes glossing over. Vacant. 

"You know, I've only ever been intimate with one other person." He gave a brittle smile. "But he's lost to me. Like a wave breaking on the shore, gone. I'll never find him again." 

Erik swallowed. Losing someone you loved, he knew that all too well: a powerful, all-consuming sense of loss. One that never left you, even if said person was safe now. 

"Um… What was he like?"

"Cheeky. Always getting in some sort of trouble…" His arms loosened around Saraj's waist. Withdrawing. 

He glanced back up. Tears strolled down El's cheeks. But he made no sign of acknowledging them. 

"I thought I heard him speak the other night… in my dream. But it was like he was in the room. Next to _me,_ " he uttered, voice breaking on the last word. He shook his head firmly. "Sorry, I need to let go of the past. Let go of him." His hands cupped Saraj's cheeks. "Focus on the gorgeous, golden sun on the horizon." 

Saraj's chest burst with warmth. As if he really was the sun. "Is that… really how you see me?" 

"Of course, how could I not?" He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My hope, my light, my… shining beacon leading me to safety through the swell of the storm." 

Saraj smiled meekly. 

Strong arms hoisted him up, holding him close. "C'mon you, let's get you to bed." 

"Hey," he protested, swallowing the pain in his throat, "that tickles!"

The sea roared in the distance, another wave breaking against the shore. 

* * *

El's arm sat snugly around his waist. The fresh sea air tickled his cheeks, hair caught up in the gentle breeze. He leaned his head against his partner, smiling. 

He'd missed El's zoom ability. They'd only arrived at this tropical paradise moments ago, yet felt no fatigue from the journey. 

Lonalulu was perfect in the evening, the sea shimmering with the last rays of sunlight. The sky a gorgeous pink streaked with gold. 

But that wasn't what El was looking at. A gentle hand slid down his cheek. 

"You look beautiful." 

Erik glanced away, face flushing. 

El kept looking. 

"I can see the sunset in your eyes: a gorgeous gold turned pink by the horizon." His hand came back up, nudging his cheek. "Warm and soft… Like you." 

The door creaked. 

Karl stood in the doorway, a little stunned. "Y-Your Majesty, what have I done to owe such a pleasure?" 

"My lovely Sari wanted to see you," he said, squeezing Erik into his side. "And what my Sari wants, he gets." 

"Hey…" Erik grumbled, pouting. "You're making me sound like a brat." 

"You both look so well! I'm so glad you two are happy," Karl exclaimed, extending an arm towards the hallway. "Now if–" 

Frantic footsteps echoed from within. A toddler barrelled out of the front door. She gasped excitedly. "Gold! Gold!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. 

"Sofie!" Karl quickly scooped her up in his arms. "Sorry, I just told her all about you! And she recognised you in an instant. My saviour." A light blush dusted his cheeks. 

"Awww, hello, Sofie!" Erik cooed. "Would you like a cuddle?" 

Sofie nodded politely, grinning widely. Karl bashfully set her down. "Come. Please join us for dinner!" 

El stepped in after him, smiling fondly over his shoulder. 

Sofie clung onto Erik's leg. There was no way he could walk like this. Oh well, there was only one thing for it. 

He hauled her up in his arms, watching her giggle and squirm in delight as he stepped through the door. 

"They're so cute when they're this age!" he sighed, bouncing her up in his arms. 

"Oh, I don't know," Karl said fondly. "This one's trouble." 

"Room! Room!" Sofie demanded, stomping her foot in the air. 

Erik smiled. "Okay, kid." He glanced back at El, who was still smiling, grin a little dopey. A grin that he quickly shook off as soon as he saw Saraj's eyes on him. 

Erik rolled his eyes. El was still stuck in his upright, royal persona. Something he'd change later. 

"Back soon, your Majesty!" 

He turned the corner and crouched, setting Sofie on the floor. 

"Look!" she declared, pointing at the humble desk. Erik knelt down. Scribbles of a figure in gold. 

"Ah! Is this me?!" 

She nodded firmly, face struck with a comical seriousness. "Gold. Gold save big brother." 

Erik fought a wince. Gold did not save big brother. 

He was beginning to wonder if the witch made him this colour on purpose, knowing more than she let on. A thought he quickly shoved aside. 

He had everything he wanted, the witch's motives irrelevant. 

Sofie rushed into his side, small fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. Child's eyes met his own. 

"Your big brother said you were poorly, hm?" He tapped his chest. "Here? Are you all better now, sweetie?" 

She nodded again. "Gold boy magic!"

"I–" Erik smiled. "Gold boy very, very silly." He lifted her up, tossing her in his arms. 

She giggled, giving a half hearted wriggle. Groaning, she reached out for his neck with sleepy arms. 

"Cuddle time?" Erik sighed happily, standing up, Sofie still in his arms. She nuzzled into his neck. 

Slowly, he walked back to the kitchen, careful not to disturb her. The sound of voices, murmuring. He abruptly stopped. 

Karl's hand sat on El's shoulder, stroking up to his neck. El made no effort to move. Erik clenched his teeth. Did he really mean that little? Was he seriously–

"I feel stupid." 

"Hey, you're not stupid." 

"How could I not realise–" he uttered brokenly, a single tear falling down his cheek. "How could I never realise that I wasn't giving him pleasure. Physically… Or emotionally. That my Sari was sad." 

The anger in Erik's chest melted away, filling instead with something softer, sadder. The man who meant the most to him in the entire world was in tears over him. His feelings. 

Karl's brows furrowed. "He was happy at the start, no?" 

El nodded, tears dripping off his nose. 

A weight sunk in Erik's chest. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm the idiot," he mumbled. 

Sofie giggled. "Your voice sounds funny!" 

_Shit. The accent._

She dipped her head back to his shoulder, breathing slowing again. Fast asleep, by the sounds of it. Karl was right, she was trouble. Just like Mia. 

"Are you… Forgive me, your majesty. In love with him..?" 

Something sharp cut the inside of his cheek. His teeth: biting down. A need to turn around, to run, to hide, overwhelmed him– he couldn't bear hearing the definite _no_. But he was frozen, as if struck by paralysis. 

El gulped. 

A heavy silence. 

"Falling. Hard." 

Erik hissed, recoiling slightly. Surely– that couldn't be right? That was really all it took? A new look and a fake accent? 

Something in him snapped. Erik snapped, filled with jealousy. That he wasn't good enough but somehow Saraj was. 

But he didn't matter. He was irrelevant. Saraj was in the prince's favour, _in his bed_ – Saraj was pleased, smiling to himself. That was all that mattered. 

Erik could die for all he cared.

"I need other ways to love him. To show him I care…" 

Saraj's smile grew wider. 

Karl removed his hand. "He'll know. If he feels the same way… It'll be clear." 

Saraj stepped over the threshold. "Um," he looked between the two men. "Someone got a little sleepy." 

"Oh, Sofie!" Karl sighed. "Poor thing was so excited to see you she tired herself out. She's much better than before, thanks to your kindness, but still a little weak." Karl took her from his arms. "Oh, I was just saying that you must stay the night. Please." He bowed. "I owe you both of our lives." 

"It is fine, you owe me nothing." Saraj offered him a bow. "It is enough… to see her running around and playing. Like children should." He glanced at El. 

El rubbed his face, smearing tears across his sleeve. 

"Oh, you…" Saraj practically leapt at him, planting affectionate kisses across his cheek. He turned to Karl. "Have you noticed how cute he is?" 

El laughed. "Sari, he's not–" 

"I know. He's got a gorgeous, but more importantly, _talented_ little girl to look after. He hasn't got time to be occupying himself with such frivolities as romance." 

El paused. "You're not a frivolity." 

Saraj grinned. "But you are. My little toy boy." He pinched El's cheek. 

El smiled back. He understood, kissing his lips, light and gentle. "And you're the most important thing to me in this world."

Saraj pinched his cheek again, much harder. "Don't call me a thing. Such a rude boy." 

"You definitely made the right choice," Karl sighed, tucking Sofie gently onto the sofa. "You're a very lucky man." 

"I know," Saraj whispered, pressing his lips to El's cheek. 

El giggled, offering him a small smile. "You're right, he did." 

* * *

Erik stared at the door, waiting for–

El, wrapped loosely in a towel, full torso on show. 

Saraj leapt out of bed, dashing towards him. His prince caught him, legs around his hips, towel falling as he spun him around. A brief, ecstatic kiss. 

"C'mon, trouble," El sighed, staggering towards the bed and dropping Saraj on it. "Bed time." 

Saraj grumbled, facing away. But it only took him a second to cave, to stare at the expanse of muscle, soft, touchable skin, the drop of his cock. 

He bit his lip. "Not bad." 

El huffed, grabbing his sleep shorts and pulling them on. 

"Hey!" Saraj protested. "I was _enjoying the view_." 

El shot him half a smirk. "We're on a ban, remember?" He flopped down onto the bed beside him, offering him a half hearted squeeze. 

"Yes but…" Saraj groaned. "There's no rules against looking… Or kissing, mm?" The grin he offered El was borderline satanic. 

"I suppose not…" El conceded, leaning back against the bed, arms folded behind his head. "I'm not the boss." 

Saraj crept onto his lap, placing both hands on the headboard, caging El's head. "Does that mean I am?" 

El gulped. "Yeah–" 

Saraj leant in, El pulled away. 

"But… No sex. Because I made a promise to my beloved. And, well…" He smiled mischievously. "A knight's word is his–" 

Saraj rushed forwards, cutting the words off before he could utter them. A sharp break. He yanked at El's hair. 

El was laughing. Unrepentant. 

"Do _not_ say that shit." 

El snorted. 

"I'm serious! I'm not kissing Prince Faris. Not again– OH!" He clamped a hand over his mouth. But it was too late. The way El tried to hide his laughter, the way his eyes widened with interest– he was _doomed_. 

El raised an eyebrow. "Have something to confess, do we?" 

Saraj batted the hand away. "No. I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." 

El's hand ran up his leg, giving a light squeeze. "Mm? Nothing?" 

"Nothing," Saraj muttered indignantly, sucking at his cheek to mask his smile. "Nothing at all." 

"Would it help if I did the accent?" he asked innocently, dragging his fingers up Saraj's thigh. "Oh, my shining desert jewel! Praise the sun! You are looking so ravishing, please, you must help me sate my poor, needy, princely, appetite–" 

Saraj grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them against the headboard. "I will smother you in your sleep." 

A joint snort. 

"Okay, okay, _fine_. We may have made out and he sucked me off a little…" 

El choked on his next words. 

"Yes, I've had two princes pleasure me so…" Saraj leant down. "I have a habit of getting royalty to do as I say…" A devilish grin. "Now be a good boy and kiss me like you mean it, mm?" 

El gazed up at him, face flushed, lips parted. "Yes, _master_."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Saraj leant into his partner's side, grinning. The sea splashed calmly against the sand, El's hand sitting around his bare waist. The cool linen of his hand woven clothes sat comfortably against his skin. Bought from the local tailor, freer than the rigid clothes of Dundrasil and the tight, scratchy feel of lingerie, made for comfort rather than style.

The people here cared more about freedom and comfort than keeping up false appearances. A life that he could get used to. 

The morning sun was just as beautiful as the evening, splashing the bright white sand with patches of gold. 

After El's confession of the loss of his old partner, he seemed a lot lighter, almost tripping as he excitedly lead Saraj up to the top of the village to gaze down at the view. 

Their legs swung off the edge of the cliff. 

El's nose nuzzled to his cheek. "I have something for you," he murmured. 

"Mm?" 

Pools of molten gold, sparkling brighter than the sand, met those bluer than any sea. 

El fumbled in his pocket. "Close your eyes." 

Saraj's eyes fell shut. 

Warm hands came around his lobes, carefully hooking cool wire through his skin. 

The weight of precious jewels. 

Lips, soft and warm on his. Perfect. 

Warm eyes met cool. 

Their faces, close. 

El toyed with one of his earrings. Saraj couldn't help but want him to pull on it with his teeth. Tug at him like a beast uncaged. 

He looked gorgeous like this, bathed in the sun's rays. They'd only been here a day but he could already see the healthy glow his skin had taken. This was were he belonged, in the arms of nature, not holed up in a dark castle. A country boy at heart. 

"Sunny citrine," he said, fingers slipping from the swell of the jewel. It swung delicately by his jaw. "Enchanted with restorative magic." 

Saraj held his breath. _Just like those earrings he gave up so willingly to that witch_. 

The very same, in fact. Made by the same hands. Shimmering gold, not blue, but still lovingly crafted by the man he craved more than any treasure in Erdrea. 

He glanced away, inhaling deeply. The sea air pleasantly tickled his nostrils. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, looking out to sea. 

El's face pressed to his neck. "Cutie."

A sudden thudding in his chest jolted him. Bile in his throat. 

Everything, _everything_ he ever wanted was now his. So why did his stomach lurch painfully? 

He needed to move, get up, go, go anywhere– before he spilled over, before he revealed that one secret. His greatest secret. The one that earned him the man of his dreams. 

"C-Can we go for a walk?" 

"Of course!" El cheerfully stood up, offering his hand. Saraj shakily got to his feet, swaying slightly. 

"It's a gorgeous day, why don't we go to the beach?" 

A slight sickness unsettled Saraj's stomach. He nodded sheepishly. 

Leisurely, they walked towards the steps. 

"Look!" El exclaimed, releasing his hand from Saraj's to point to the horizon. "A … _hissssss_." 

"A what?!"

Sand filled his ears, his mouth. Saraj looked to the horizon, saw nothing. Sea water gushed through his head. 

His figure flopped like a fish on land. Drowning. 

The sea, the sand, everywhere, in his ears, his eyes, his _soul_. 

A flash of purple silk. A screeching laugh. 

He cried out. His chest seared with the venomous sound. Slowly, he sank beneath the poison waves, arms held down by thorny vines, unable to cry for help. 

* * *

El stood at the door of his childhood bedroom, eyes weary and red at the edges, shoulders bunched. Limply, he turned the handle. 

"W-Wait," Erik mumbled, curling up in the sheets. "El, I'm scared." 

The stairs, the fall… _how could he let that happen?_ He was a thief, agile and light on his feet. Had the cushy life as Prince consort really taken away his thief's intuition?

Then El's arms came around his waist. A familiar scent on his breath. One Erik was too tired to remember. He curled into his warmth. 

A heavy breath. At least his chest didn't hurt anymore. He could breathe fine, in fact. _Thank fuck._ Maybe it was just psychological: wound up anxiety taking over his body and mind. The manifestation of his lie as a physical pain. 

His partner's lips on his jaw. "There's someone you need to meet. Someone who's been looking after you," he said flatly, voice heavy and devoid of emotion. He glanced away mournfully. "I contacted her because she reminds me of an old friend… I hope that's okay." 

Erik whined quietly, unable to focus on his words properly. He buried his head in El's chest, sighing. 

"He's awake?" 

Erik tensed. That voice. It shot through him like hot lava. Or freezing icicles, for a more accurate term. Oh no, _oh fuck no._

Mia stepped around the corner, jug of water in hand. "El? Amber's calling for you." 

"Go," he whispered. "See your mum." 

El quietly inhaled, body shifting under his. "Wait, how did you know that was my mum's name?" 

Saraj gulped. "I…" 

"Must've absorbed information while he was passed out," Mia butted in. She jerked her head towards the door. "Go, now?" 

El sighed heavily. With a kiss, he wriggled out from underneath the sheets. "Back soon, my love." 

Mia firmly shut the door behind him. Her lips formed a tight grimace. That fierce look in her eye– boy, was he in trouble. 

"You better explain _right now…_ " 

Erik glanced away, a kid preparing to be scolded by his teacher. Or parent …not that he was familiar with either situation. He dug his nails into the back of his neck. "Just fell down the stairs, I guess…" 

"Hmph!" Mia angrily thunked onto the bed. "Do you know how worried I was? Coz your clumsy ass fell? And, and–" She growled, setting the jug so firmly on the side that water splashed her face. "Do you know what your stupid fucking boyfriend was doing while you were napping, huh? Do you?" 

Erik shook his head wearily. 

"Getting so fucking drunk off his face that he passed out in some ditch! Stupid fuck." 

Of course. The scent on El's breath. _Of course_. He'd been drinking again. Shit. 

"I… Sorry–" 

"Do you binge drink too?" She prodded his chest. " _Do you?_ " 

"No, you no I don't like heavy drinking… Coz, y'know, the stuff they'd do when they drank." A bitterness flooded his tongue. A shudder. 

Mia gasped. Her fists balled. "Don't tell me– I _swear_ to mighty Yggdrasil that I'll cut his balls off if he _ever–_ " 

"Mia, no," he said calmly. "El would never hurt me like that. I think he's just… a little sad. I dunno, but I'm gonna help him through it." He shook his head. "Someone he loved," he took a breath, "died." 

Mia's mouth opened silently. For once, lost for words. She fell into his side, groaning. "You need to tell him." 

Erik curved an arm around her waist, rubbing her back soothingly. "You know I can't do that." 

A loud, furious growl, her frustration taken out on a nearby cushion. "Why not, dammit?!" 

"Because I'm the only person he has. Truly." Erik met her watery gaze. "I love him, Mia. And I heard him say he's falling in love with me. He needs me." 

Mia's brow furrowed. She shuffled in closer, resting her head on his beating heart. "I'm worried, Erik. That this is all gonna blow up in your face. I mean, you fainted for a reason and…" She adjusted her head on his chest. Then sighed. "But he does seem to care about you. I can tell he's been feeding you properly, which is a start." 

Erik started. "Feeding me?" 

"Mm." She smiled. "You're a little pudgier than before, which is good." 

"Oh." 

His body suddenly felt a whole lot heavier. Like he could sink through the mattress. _Had he really gained weight?_ It was something he didn't notice any more, hadn't thought about for a while. 

Mia was also looking a lot less slight. Good food, he supposed. No longer starving. They were both getting used to the wealthy lifestyle, which included rich food. 

It wasn't something to worry about. El liked him as he was, never once commenting on his apparent gain. Besides, it made Mia happy and that was always a good thing. His priority. 

He shouldn't let himself be tempted by such thoughts again. 

"He just needs to get a handle on that drinking and you need to tell him the truth," Mia said pointedly, stretching a hand towards the ceiling. "You gotta be honest with each other." 

"I get it, kid," he said, ruffling her hair. "Besides, just because we have _problems_ doesn't mean we can't be happy. Our little holiday was the happiest time of my life." 

Mia considered this a moment. "I suppose. We still had fun even though we had the shittiest childhood imaginable." 

Erik grinned, holding her tighter in his arms. "Right!" 

They cuddled in silence a moment. 

Erik jabbed her with an elbow. "Anyway, how's the wife?" 

Mia smirked, slipping his arm off. "Good. _Very_ good." 

Erik gave a mock gasp. "You little minx!" 

Mia sat up, flashing him a blinding grin. "Let's just say, we're both very, very happy." She turned her back, grasping the empty tray from the side. 

He prodded her side. "Mia's gay! Mia's gay!" 

"Piss off," she protested weakly, giggling between words. "You're so annoying! I didn't even say that we–" 

Erik cleared his throat, face falling into false seriousness. "A brother knows." 

Mia snorted. She strolled towards the door, slyly flashing him the finger over her shoulder. 

"Want me to, uh, explain how–" 

Her head whipped around. "My own anatomy works?" 

Erik scoffed. They both laughed, Mia shaking your head lightly. She slapped the doorframe. 

"You're a real dumb fuck, you know–" 

The door swung open. 

She leapt back with a start. 

El stepped in, staring at the floor. "Sorry, Mia lovely, is it alright if I talk with him in private?" 

She bowed her head. "Course! Heh. Just don't get my brother preg–" A hand clasped her mouth. 

El stiffened, suddenly looking up. 

"What I meant was…" Her eyes frantically searched the room. "Sorry, El, I haven't seen him in months so I just… thought of him. Coz he's a similar age to your, uh, _friend_." 

El nodded thoughtfully. "If you see him, tell him he's invited to the castle any time he likes. I'd love him to meet my Sari." 

"Well, _that's_ gonna be difficult," she muttered. 

Erik glared. 

"I know," El sighed, clawing a hand through his hair. "He's been very elusive recently. And I'd love to see him." 

She nodded politely, offering a somewhat pained smile. 

The door was promptly closed behind her. 

"Oh, sweetheart…" El sighed, ambling over and perching on the bed. "What are we gonna do with you, eh?" 

"Cuddle me and smother me in kisses?" 

El smiled warmly, shoulders relaxing. "I like the sound of that." 

He giggled, the gentle press of El's face to his tickling him pleasantly. The hum of his lips vibrated through his skin. He grinned, basking in his partner's warmth. 

El slipped under the sheets, pulling him onto his lap. Kisses landed up the side of his face, smothering him in a soft, careful affection. Slowly, he pressed his lips to his lover's neck, leaving a gentle kiss. 

"You're feeling cuddly, mm?" 

Saraj squirmed, adjusting himself on El's lap, burying his face in the blue of his tunic. "Mm," he sighed happily. 

He smelt like lavender, like home, wrapped in the comfort of his cobblestone tunic. A true country boy in his natural habitat. It was sweet that he took him here, to his real home, rather than the castle. It showed that his partner knew him intimately well, even when he was hiding behind a golden shroud. 

"Can I ask… do you know why you fell down the stairs? Are you… prone to fainting?" 

"Not that I know of," he sighed. 

El's hand stroked over the base of his neck. 

"Mm, I really want to look after you. Care for you. You're so precious to me, I couldn't bear to lose you." 

Saraj glanced up, golden eyes shimmering in the morning light. "You're not going to lose me, you'll never–" 

He felt the bed creak underneath him. 

El gasped, eyes wide. "No…" Slowly, he brushed hair from his face. "How could I have never noticed that before?" 

He stared. 

Saraj held his breath. "What? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong, it's just… Your eyes. They're beautiful as ever but, I could've sworn…" El inhaled deeply. 

This could only be bad. _Bad_ , bad. The dread pooled, heavy, deep and cold in his chest. 

El tilted his head. His hand slid up his cheek. 

"...There was no _blue_ in them before." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please let me know what you think, I love reading your theories and reactions :D
> 
> I'm aiming to update this once a week so any encouragement, no matter how small, will help me sort the chapter for next Saturday ;)
> 
> Thanks again!! Byeee~


	6. In His Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of his lover's fall, El teeters on the verge of instability– pushed closer to the edge by the arrival of his former companions.  
> Suspicions grow about the true identity of Saraj.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for givin me another chance after leaving this fic a lil while <3
> 
> I have one super important project next week but after that it'll just be mirage, I promise!

Saraj shook, body wracked with sobs

Sylv reached out, delicately touching the silk to his damp cheeks. "Mm, I think I know exactly what's going on here, honey." 

Saraj sunk his head down to his knees. "His majesty is a prick?" 

Sylv laughed airily. "Well, you could say he has been less than princely this evening. And honestly… I'm incredibly disappointed in the poor dear." With the flick of his wrist, the handkerchief vanished, only the pad of his thumb remaining on his pinked face. 

Saraj dared a glance up. 

Something sparkled in the corner of Sylv's eyes. A knowing. 

The entertainer withdrew his hand. "But that's not what I was touching on, sweetie. I think Sylvando's detective agency might _just_ have solved our biggest case yet." 

His lips parted, heart thudding. "And what's that?" 

" _Saraj_." 

* * *

El's nose nuzzled to his cheek. 

Saraj giggled, mischievous gold eyes meeting an even more mischievous blue. The sheets rustled around them. 

"Pretty." 

Saraj eyed him coquettishly. "You're only saying that because I just rode like a Gallopolitan horseman." 

El giggled, pressing another chaste kiss to his face. "You've been saving that one, haven't you?" 

Saraj sucked at his cheek. 

El shuffled in the sheets. The content smile fell from his lips. "Are you sure you're well enough to meet my friends? I'll cancel it if you aren't up to doing it, lovely."

Saraj nestled into his warmth. 

"In," El pecked a kiss to his cheek, "A," and one to his chin, " _Heartbeat._ " 

A final, brief kiss. 

Saraj smiled like the sun. "I was well enough to do you." 

El brushed a shaking hand through rich, blond curls. He offered a fragment of a smile. Wary. 

"It was weeks ago, baby," he murmured, dragging his hands down El's face, his neck, his bare torso. He flicked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. "I'll be just fine, sexy." 

El's jaw tightened. 

He couldn't tell him about the occasional stabs of chest pain. Or the frequent dizzy spells. Or that hour he spent in the bathroom retching. 

El worried. El worried far too much. 

Better he buried these concerns deep than upset his partner. The same way he buried Erik. 

"There's only one thing you should be worried about," he said, words drawn out into a sultry whisper. 

"Oh?" 

Saraj smirked.

"Not being able to keep your hands off me when you see what I'm wearing," he drawled. 

El bit his lip. "Mm, sounds perfect." 

* * *

El's mouth hung open, 

Saraj glanced over. He frowned.

El wasn't gaping at him: the golden silk draped effortlessly over his figure– if effortlessly meant several hours of carefully pinning himself into the winding fabric– painfully ignored. 

It seemed like the prince really did take after his grandfather, though maybe even Rab wouldn't read his _articles_ over dinner. 

He strolled over, silk swishing at his hips, an overwhelming curiosity compelling him to see what his lover was gawping at. 

The corner of the front page, it seemed… familiar: splashed with a variety of enticing blue hues–

He dropped his wine glass on the table. 

Sylv caught it with a sleight of hand.

He tapped a finger to the sly curve of his lips. "It seems our Erik is multi-talented, wouldn't you say, _Saraj?_ "

Bastard.

"Hmph." Saraj crossed his arms. He cast a disdainful look down at his own, no, _Erik's_ semi-naked figure. "Slut." 

"And just who are you calling a _slut?_ " 

A muffled gasp. "Veronica! You mustn't!" 

"It's okay, I get it." Saraj glanced across at his prince, palms trembling. "May I?" 

El tore his eyes away from the magazine. "S-Sari! Oh, course!" 

Saraj reached towards the jug of water, brushing past Veronica. 

"You," she hissed, just loud enough for him to hear. "Dabble in dark magic, do you?" 

Saraj whipped around, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" 

Veronica hummed, eyes narrowing. "You're positively drowning in it. Dark magic, that is. Familiar dark magic. Almost like…" 

Saraj fought a flinch. Veronica knew. She must do with that kind of prying look. And now she was messing with him, trying to trick him into confessing his true identity– well, what little was left of it. 

A trick he wouldn't fall for. 

He crossed his arms tightly, glowering down at her. A well worn expression. 

"Holy crap!" She snapped her finger. "Just like when my age was drained by that stupid pothead... A transformation curse!" 

Saraj stepped back. That stupid meddler. That insolent child. She never knew when to stop, when to keep her nose out of–

"And it's eating you. It's eating you alive." Her brow furrowed, expression melting into something softer: pity. "You're in pain." 

Saraj scoffed. "You know _nothing,_ " he spat. "Stupid girl." He stormed towards the balcony, silk trailing behind him. 

El didn't look across, far too engrossed in his magazine. 

Stupid Erik. 

* * *

Saraj fell against the balcony edge, panting wildly. The night lights of Dundrasil spun beneath him, swirling as his eyes blurred with tears. 

She was wrong. This was no curse. He was _blessed,_ capturing the heart and mind of the prince of one of the most powerful nations. The ruler of his heart. Veronica was _wrong._

He wouldn't be stupid enough to make that mistake again. Never, ever again. No golden curses, _no._ was blessed, not rotting, not in pain, no pain–

He rasped for breath, throat tightening. A raw, paralysing fear seized his body– he was freezing. Turning to gold. 

Mia would never forgive him. 

Stupid, reckless, love, casing his body in precious metal. 

His fingers desperately sought purchase, digging into the unforgiving stone of the balcony. He choked on tears. 

The door creaked open. 

Distant. He didn't look back. He probably wouldn't be able to tell who it was in the gloom. Or turn to look back now that his body was frozen gold. 

"Erik?! What the bleedin' 'ell?" 

His head spun round. "Derk?" he mumbled, tears falling freely. 

Derk leapt back. "You look… different? Wait that don't matter right now." He carefully sat down on the cold stone. "Come sit." 

Erik sat in front of him, hunched, shaking. "How'd you know it was me?" 

"I'd know that arse anywhere." 

Erik snorted, chest still tight. "S-Seriously?" 

"Nah, can't see shit out 'ere. Just thought it'd make you laugh an' all." 

Erik nodded, lungs struggling for breath. "All my fault, Derk, you don't understand, it's all my fault–" 

Derk took both hands in his. "Remember that time we snuck into that rich man's house, you all dressed up as my rich lady wife and me some posh cunt. Crashed their fancy dinner party. Stole some nice little pieces." 

Erik snorted. "Your awful posh accent. You sounded like you were about to shit yourself." 

He fell forwards. Into his former partner's arms. 

"You'll be alright, babe, you'll be alright." Derk sighed softly, stroking patterns through Erik's hair. Just the way he liked. 

Derk knew him well. Intimately well. Better than anyone else. Four years darting between towns, running from the law, it bonded them. 

Until they were torn apart. 

And Derk had left him for Opal. 

"Still happily married?" he sighed, a little breathless. 

The panic was ebbing away– replaced by an aching longing, a writhing jealousy. 

Derk smiled. "Yup. To the best bloody woman I ever–" 

"Shame." 

Derk shook his head, hand still tracing Erik's scalp. "I know you don't mean that." 

"Don't I?" Erik shoved his arm off, sitting up. "Derk, I wanna go home. I'm tired of pretending. I want– you. I want you and me in the back of Ruby's Inn, clueless and fumbling. I want you in my mouth, I want– you to come in 20 seconds, make a horrible mess in my hair, then us to fall back on the broken bed and laugh like idiots."

"I feel like that too sometimes," Derk sighed, words slow and heavy. "When I'm at some posh do with Opal, like, an' some inbred prick mocks my accent. I think: Erik would've stuck two fingers up at these rich cunts, an' we'd 'ave done it in one of their fancy beds by now. Then I realise, I am one of these cunts now. A very rich man."

Erik tipped his head to the side. "So? You just don't want me anymore?"

"Romanticising the past never helps your present. It just hurts, mate." He shook his head. "'Sides, things were rough, Erik. We were starvin', barely scraping by."

"Yeah, but…" A tear rolled down Erik's cheek. 

"Neither of us really want that manky old mould-stained room. You don't want to cheat on your boyfriend. I don't wanna cheat on my wife. It's an escape we make for when things get tough. But really, we can't go back to 'ow things were." He chuckled softly. "No one can travel back in time." 

Erik's mouth opened. No words came out. 

"You gotta let go. You can't live in the past." 

"When did you get so wise?" 

"Well, Opal 'elps with that an' all." 

"Oh."

Derk's hand brushed his arm. "I'm sorry, mate. I never… Know what to say, like." 

Erik gazed back with shining eyes. 

Derk sighed. "I thought of you every day. Worried about ya. Wondered how you were doin'." 

"I kept the ring on," Erik mumbled. "Until Ruby told me you got married. I threw it in the rubbish pile. Where _our_ orb was supposed to be." 

Derk's hand twitched in his shirt. 

"Then later that night I dragged poor El back there, dug through it all. Cut my hand on some scrap metal. Kinda like the one you made it out of." His thumb brushed over the faded white line. 

"But we found it in the end. El made me a chain on the forge and I kept it round my neck a little while."

 _Six months._

Veronica had asked one prying question, catching him turning it between his thumb and finger in Hotto. 

One he firmly shoved away. 

"I loved ya Erik. And there ain't a day that goes by where the guilt doesn't eat at me." Derk sighed wearily. "But when I see you with 'im, the bleedin' Luminary of all people, I smile to meself. Feel good. Like… things 'appened for a reason." 

Erik wrung his hands. "But he doesn't love me, Derk. Not like you did." 

"Well you ain't gonna know that for sure if you avoid the poor bloke!" he sighed, slapping his back. 

He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a pipe and placing the tip in his mouth. 

Erik bit his lip. Shakily, palms meeting cool stone, he pushed up off the floor. 

Derk was right. Fuck Veronica, fuck everyone else– he should be with his partner right now. No matter what. They all faded into background noise the second he stared into those deep, blue eyes. 

He winced, left eye twitching. 

Better not to think about the blue staining his perfect, golden iris. 

Or curses of any kind. 

Just melt into his partner's arms. Bathe in the warmth of his adoration. 

"Thanks Derk–" Erik snorted. "Woah is that?!" 

Derk lit his pipe, blowing out a large cloud of heady smoke. The dopey grin was all the answer he needed. 

Erik narrowed his eyes.

Derk leant back and chuckled, nodding his head towards the door. 

Erik grasped the handle, offering him an eye roll. "You're stupid, you know that?" 

* * *

Saraj strolled back in proudly, shoving the doors open with a blinding grin. He sauntered up to the table, shooting Veronica a passing glare, then headed straight for his prince. 

"Erik!" El cried, mouth falling into a sloppy smile. 

Saraj's foot caught on the edge of his trouser leg. His eye stung. 

A loud gasp. "Oh, his majesty is ever so _naughty,_ taking two lovers and confusing their names!" 

Faris. Saraj didn't recall _him_ being invited. 

Nor had El called him Erik before. That was… strange. 

It stung like venom. 

But he couldn't know who he was, he reasoned. Maybe he was just–

El pouted. "I'm no-ot!" he protested, slamming the table. "My brain's… Funny." 

Intoxicated. Ah. 

Though it still bothered him… why Erik of all names? 

A thought he abruptly brushed to the side– like dust off his smooth, pristine sleeve. 

He cautiously approached his lover. 

Faris leant over the table, pressing a sloppy palm to his cheek. "His majesty is rather drunk." 

Saraj scowled. 

"Would you like some, Serik?" El asked warmly, offering a wild grin. 

Clumsy hands shakily dragged the bottle of wine towards him. Saraj leapt back. 

Green glass smashed against stone, splattering blood red up his gold, silken trousers.

El laughed it off, head lolling back. "S'fine, someone else'll clean it up…"

Saraj wheeled in on him, golden eyes burning orange. "You _spoilt_ piece of shit. You seriously think you can go around making a mess and expect other people to clean up after you?" 

Faris shrugged. "What else are servants for?" 

El snorted, head hitting the table. 

Saraj pounded the wood, jolting him upright. "If you know what's good for you'll shut up," he spat. "I could smack the shit out of you right now." 

He hissed through his teeth. _Erik_. He really needed to shove him down, stop him from blowing his cover. The stupid, loudmouth brat. 

The table fell into an abrupt, stormy silence. 

Jade rolled her eyes, arm tightening around Serena's waist. Her other hand sat idly on her thigh, just under the hemline of her dress. A dreamy look shone on Serena's face– utterly besotted– her soft features glowing in the wake of Jade's touch. 

"Look," Jade sighed, "I don't know what's going on over there but I'd also like to smack Faris. So I say, go for it." 

"Don't baby," El sighed, lower lip sticking out. "He's into that." 

Faris guffawed loudly. He nudged El with the point of his elbow. "Ha HA! You know me far too well, your esteemed majesty." 

Hendrik blanched, choking on his water. Sylv offered him a comforting pat on the shoulder, stifling a giggle. 

Saraj put his hands on his hips. " _He's_ the other man you've slept with?" 

"Oh no! Just, uh," El leant over, offering a less than discreet whisper, "hand stuff, and a little tongue…" 

Saraj's face twisted into a wince. 

"Now, now." Rab nodded back in his chair. "Don't you worry, laddie. He's devoted to you, I'm sure of it. By the way he was talkin' about ye when ye were gone, he really thinks the world of ye–" 

"Even if he has some _murky_ dark aura around him?" Veronica cut in sharply. 

"Now there, lassie. I've been livin' with the fella, mind, he strikes me as nothing but an honest gent, aye?" 

Saraj swallowed. Between Rab's thoughtful gaze; the Jade's wandering hands, Sylvando's arm around Hendrik; his partner's dopey look and the icy glare of Veronica, he didn't know where to look. 

"Excuse me, sir, can I please–" A maid bowed her head, holding a dustpan and brush. 

Saraj gasped. "No!" 

The poor girl flinched back, brow pinching. 

"No," Saraj repeated softly, pressing a palm to her shoulder. "I'll clean it up. He's my responsibility. I shouldn't have left him." Slowly, he took the dustpan and brush and knelt down, sweeping up the shattered glass. 

It provided a good distraction, at the very least.

From Veronica, from Faris, from _El_. 

Wine smeared across the brush, streaking murky crimson on his fingertips. His mouth turned dry. 

"You look good on your knees," El sighed, gazing down at him. 

Erik rolled his eyes, collecting the last shards of glass. Before he could stop her, the maid returned with a damp cloth, swiping at the deep red. 

"Hey, I can–" 

"I don't want you to cut your hands," she murmured. 

He sighed, sitting back on his knees. "My hands aren't any more important than yours. In fact, you're just as important as those pricks up there, okay? Don't let anyone tell you any different." 

She nodded, taking the full pan from his hand then scrubbing at the floor.

Saraj groaned. It could have been him scrubbing the floors if he didn't have friends in high places– or a pretty face. 

It probably should have been. 

A hand brushed his cheek. El looked at him with big, shining eyes. Lost. Alone. 

Sighing, Saraj clambered to his feet, hopping over the arm of his chair and nestling himself in El's lap. 

El clung onto him like a distressed animal grasping at a tree branch in a violent storm. 

"You like me, right?" he mumbled sadly, arms digging into Saraj's sides. "Or him…" 

Saraj scoffed. El may have pissed him off, said some stupid things, but he was still the man he loved. And when he looked at him like that, he couldn't deny him anything. 

Besides, Faris was clearly to blame, the worst kind of influence to have around while he was drunk. 

He pressed his lips to his ear. "You. Only you." 

"But he went down on you?" 

Saraj tipped his head to the side, golden eyes gazing into an ocean of blue. "You fall in love with everyone who performs fellatio on you?" 

"Well, yeah." El's brow tightened. He glanced across the table, at the bumbling idiot. "Oh! But not him!" 

Saraj laughed, a wild tinkling sound. Their lips touched. "For a moment there I thought you were going to leave me for…" He glanced disdainfully at a drunken, guffawing Faris. "That." 

El giggled. "Never. Never ever, _ever_." 

Smooth hands pulled at his hair, dragging him in close. Red wine tingled on Saraj's tongue, swirling through his senses. El kissed him with such passion and fervor– it was just them– no banquet hall, no audience. Just them. 

Saraj grinned. 

The way he was kissing him, touching him– it was more Downton Heliodor, where no one would bat an eye, than Dundrasil– the _crown prince_ passionately kissing his consort in front of helpless dinner guests. 

El didn't care who saw them. 

Saraj giggled at the hand slipping down his hip. He broke away. 

"Easy, sabrecat… remember where we are."

Saraj shyly sucked at his cheek, the heat of the room's gaze burning into the back of his head. 

El's grip only grew tighter. His eyes narrowed. The hint of a grin. "I wanna show him that you're _mine_." 

"Well," Saraj sighed, curling into El's chest. "I think he got the message, baby." 

El gazed down at the floor, mouth slicing into a grin. "You looked really pretty under the table." 

Saraj jumped back. A fierce blush bit at his cheeks. "Hey… save it for later, I– Oh!" 

That unmistakable bulge. 

El smirked. "It's for you… all yours, treasure." He gently stroked hair from his face. 

"Yes, but…" Saraj mumbled, blush growing fiercer. 

El dropped his napkin between his legs. "Oh, clumsy me. Why don't you pick it up for me, sweetheart?" 

Saraj drew back. "Y-You're _serious?!_ " 

A hazy, satisfied grin settled on El's lips. He relaxed back in his chair. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Because that's–" Dry air escaped Saraj's throat. His chest fell. "That's demeaning." 

"You don't normally mind when I demean you," El breathed, offering a stupefying wink. 

A _wink?_ The man had really lost his mind. And Saraj's favour. He hadn't listened to him. He really didn't remember their drunken conversation. 

Saraj's eyes burnt brightly, stinging with tears, with glowing fire– golden fury. "Not _in front_ of everyone! That's- that's different." 

The quiet chatter abruptly stopped. 

Saraj swallowed. He was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying. Faris was a bad influence.

It wasn't El's fault. 

He needed to repress Erik. Be quiet. Not make a scene. Besides El was the _prince._ He didn't really have the right to scold him. 

"Forget about it," El groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes I forget you're not Erik." 

Saraj reeled back. "Oh?! So Erik would have done it, would he?"

The bastard. It was his fault. The entitled piece of shit. 

"And why's that? Because he's posed in some stupid magazine? Because he's _below_ you?!" 

Saraj shoved at his chest, forcing himself off his lover's body, untangling himself from the chair. Tears dripped down his cheeks. 

"Because he's fun," El spat. "Besides, I never said you had to. You're being dramatic." 

"Dramatic?!" Saraj growled like a wounded sabrecat. "You're treating me like I'm less than you. I said it at the start: I am not your property. I am not your slave. You really haven't learnt, have you? This lifestyle has left you rotten. Rotten to the core."

El's chest sharply rose. 

The room stared at him in a heated silence.

Saraj glared back. 

"And you– all of you fuckers: what makes you any better than me, huh? You princes, princesses, knights, kings… and holy _fuckin'_ sages?!" He ground his teeth. "Truth is, you're not. You're not any better. You're just as stupid and flawed as I am. Why is it that you cunts get to sit up here in your finery while your people starve in the streets?" 

El sniffled. A tear fell down the slope of his cheek. His eyes: unreadable. The stiff face of a future ruler. 

"Don't look at me like that," Saraj growled. "You wouldn't have done it! A prince sucking the cock of his consort in front of his entire fuckin' friends and family? Fuck off." 

El took a shuddering breath. Still unreadable. 

"But it's somehow fine the other way round, huh? A fun little party game." His shoulders slumped. "Because you're worth more than me." 

El fiddled with the cravat at his neck. 

"El!" Jade screeched her chair back. "Did you seriously ask him–" 

"Shut the fuck up, princess! I'm out." Saraj broke into a sob. "Fuck this," he mumbled. "I'm out." 

* * *

Saraj wiped his nose on his sleeve, disregarding any thoughts of what was right and proper. He'd already insulted the entirety of the Drasilian nobility and their friends– his former friends– there was no point in indulging in niceties. 

He glanced up at Sylv. Green eyes watched him closely, examining his crumbling features with pity. 

"Who am I then?" Saraj spat. "Coz I don't even fucking know." 

"If my calculations are correct," Sylv spoke softly, "you are dear sweet Erik." 

"Derk tell you that? He's lying." 

Sylv sighed, brows dipping. "Oh, sweetie." He reached out his hand to Erik's shoulder. Saraj batted it away, growling. 

"Okay, you're acting a little like a caged animal so I'll step back, give you some room." Sylv lowered his hands. "Is there anything–" 

"You knew all along, didn't you?" he hissed. "From the first time I saw you in the bar. The magazine at the table. Why have you kept it quiet? What's in it for you?" 

Sylv clicked his tongue slowly. A palm came to his chin. "Oh darling, you overestimate the power of Sylvando's detective agency a teeny tiny bit. Your unique little smile was a clue, yes… but we didn't quite have the case cracked until tonight. There's only one person I know who would use such colourful language in sophisticated surroundings. And, well, who is bold enough and loves El enough to correct him when he's wrong." 

Saraj hit his head against his knees. "Fuck."

Sylv exhaled deeply. "Dare I ask why you have transformed your appearance? You were beautiful before, sweetie. Gorgeous. I don't understand why you'd want to change a thing about you." 

"Really?" Saraj huffed. He jabbed a finger at the ground. "Then why as _Erik_ did he barely even spare me a glance? And as soon as this bitch Saraj walks in he can't keep his damn hands off me." 

"Barely?!" Sylv said, eyes narrowing sharply. 

His glare grew intense, creeping into his skin. The warm, affectionate man, the entertainer lived to spread smiles, gone, replaced by a stern, disapproving knight. 

Maybe Sylv was more like his father than he first thought. 

Saraj gasped. Sylv's hands gripped his shoulders tighter. 

"Listen to me, young man. He _adored_ you." Sylv paused, brows falling dramatically, lips downturned. "Every _single_ time you walked off camp to– go to the bathroom, wash, anything– he'd gush about you, wonder how you were doing, talk about how lovely and sweet you were. How he wished he could follow you wherever you went. He loved– no, _loves_ you Erik. So please, stop playing this part. Saraj needs to leave the stage. _Vamos._ "

"Shit." Erik yanked a handful of blond curls. Scratched his nails over bronzed skin. Thought of the blue in his eye. Mia– his not-so-baby sister– and her hatred for Saraj. The lack of respect El had just shown him. 

But then he thought of this morning, waking up next to his lover. He thought of Lonalulu, and the bliss of their holiday. He thought of El confessing he was falling for him. He thought of the very first time Saraj stepped into El's chambers, the way his hands desperately clawed at his clothes. 

The cliff. 

Where Erik pulled down his hood and El's eyes lit up with the twinkle of a thousand stars, cheeks pinking, lips parted. 

_Was it possible that he loved them both?_

"How do you even know he loved–" 

Saraj jumped back. The door. 

El stumbled through, bleary eyed and clutching his face. Livid red– scorched across his cheek. 

"You fell?!" Saraj leapt to his feet with thieves' agility. "You need to be more careful or you'll–" 

El shook his head feebly. "Jade kicked me." 

Saraj took his face in both palms, careful not to apply too much pressure. "I don't want you to be in pain." 

"No less than I deserve," he mumbled, dewy eyes on the floor. "Do you want a separate room for tonight?" 

Saraj kissed him with aching lips. "No," he breathed. 

Slowly, he stepped away, turning away from his partner, forearms resting on the balcony. Dundrasil stretched beneath him, the bright lights of the lower town in full blaze as drunks paraded the streets. The richer quarter was less vibrant, a softer glow emanating from their neatly curtained windows. A far cry from the raw fire burning scrap wood. 

But there was one place he was fixated on. 

An eerie blue glow. 

One he couldn't take his eyes off. 

The door shut. Sylv slipping away discreetly. 

"Why did you call me Erik?"

The words tumbled out before he could think. 

El's muffled gasp. Gentle, shuffling footsteps. The tears on El's face glowed molten orange, burning in the light of the sunset. He glanced away. 

"I was drunk." 

He hid his face behind a palm. Withholding. 

"Is that the only reason?" 

"I miss him." El swallowed. "He was always the smart one, keeping me out of trouble. But I haven't seen him for months and I doubt he even thinks of me anymore. Going off on adventures. Leaving me stuck here." 

Saraj's chest lurched. "Stuck?"

"Sorry, didn't mean it like that." El wiped his nose on his velvet dress coat. 

Erik chuckled. Not very princely of his royal highness. 

But it made sense. 

El was never raised for this: a soft hearted country boy, not made to fit the burden of a crown… Let alone the role of Luminary. He belonged here in those expensive clothes just as much as Saraj did. 

"I would give anything to see him again," he sighed, gazing across at the setting sun. "Even if he doesn't want to stay long." 

"Anything?" 

"Anything." 

Silence. 

"You're right," El said joyously, suddenly more animated. "Why am I up here while people starve? I'm not worthy of this." With the sharp swing of his arm, he grasped the royal circlet on his head and flung it over the battlements. 

Saraj laughed, unable to stop, hand over mouth. 

How very Erik of him. 

Reckless, stupid. A little endearing. Saraj forgot El had those characteristics in him. 

_Their leap of faith._

"He would've loved that." El rolled his eyes, pulling a hand through his hair. "Sorry, that was silly. Doesn't solve anything… But felt good, I guess." 

El offered him a shaky smile. 

Saraj placed a trembling hand to his chest. "You're a good person. You have just got to see beyond yourself. These ridiculous stone walls." 

El blushed sweetly. 

"So, build some infrastructure! A couple of wells, maybe. Help dig out some veg patches. Do your farm boy shit." Erik took both of his hands. "Getting hands on and helping people is better than just throwing money at the problem. You know that better than anyone." 

El smiled softly. "You're right." His nose nudged Saraj's. "You're always right. My beautiful Sari." 

Saraj swallowed the pain in his throat. He glanced away. Ghosted his face away. "Don't." 

El watched him, chest drawing up sharply. "Don't what?" 

"Don't make this hard for me." Saraj pulled his hands loose from El's grip. 

A deep blue filled the sky, all remnants of golden sun faded into the thick night. 

"Love?" 

Saraj didn't look back, not once, not ever, as he headed for the door. But by the crack in his voice, he could tell El was about to cry. 

"I'm leaving." 

Saraj counted to ten in his head. Tried to nudge the handle. But couldn't leave. Not yet. 

A hand brushed his shoulder. "Will you come back?" he mumbled miserably. 

Saraj looked back. 

He wished he hadn't. 

Tears brimmed in El's watery blue eyes. 

His hands found El's cheeks. A thumb nudged a stray tear. "Don't cry, baby." 

El shook with another sob. Saraj's chest squeezed with a pained breath. 

"I'm not sure. We seem to bring out the worst in each other." A sharp swallow. Shards of glass tore at his throat. 

El glanced away. "I'll make you proud. I promise." 

"Can I kiss–" 

"I wanna kiss–" 

They shared a smile. A brief kiss. Too brief. Fleeting. Like the sun on the horizon. Gone too fast, the world now plunged into darkness. 

It would rise again tomorrow morning. Just not with El next to him. 

Saraj drew back, salt lingering on his lips. 

"Goodbye, your majesty. And… Thank you." 

He shoved at the door, eyes tightly shut. It swung closed behind him. Final. 

He didn't look back. 

* * *

Erik shoved at the crimson door, golden vines writhing under his touch. The magic hissed through his palms, seared through his veins. 

Unperturbed, he pressed onwards, into the room. The room that gave birth to Saraj. Killed Erik. 

Erik stumbled back. His eyes danced around the vast, whitewashed hall. Unrecognisable. 

The derelict, rotting woodpile gone– an intricate mosaicked floor stretched before him, gleaming pieces of blue, gold, and pearlescent glass pressed into the polished marble. Elegantly carved pillars lined the hall, a blood red carpet running through the centre, leading to an ivy green throne adorned with golden vines. Pure, white arches stretched behind the throne, giving way to pure, blue sky. 

Breathtaking. 

The trickle of fountains splashed down either side of the room, the water a vibrant blue. Almost too blue. 

Dreamlike. 

A flash of silk. A barely concealed laugh. 

The door shut behind him.

Erik swallowed. 

"Hello, my child," she purred from the throne, beckoning with a single, silken, finger. "How may I be of assistance?" 

Fiery hair ran down her chest in waves, capturing the light of a sun that shouldn't be shining. Orange, not _green._ Her face, now uncovered, was soft and delicate, as if carved from marble. Perfectly symmetrical. Her dress– no longer concealing her in a silken shroud, scooped down, her collarbone framed with gold. 

Her neck bore a heavy choker. Her ears– were those _his_ earrings? Erik swallowed the thought. 

"Let's kill Saraj," Erik said firmly, hand clasping around the dagger at his belt. 

Something clawed at the edge of his gut. Tingled at the edge of his vision. Stung in his left eye– his blue eye. 

He blinked.

Purple. Flooding his vision. Her face inches from his. Her eyes lingered on his dagger. A sickening, familiar laughter ran through the room. 

Erik stood his ground. Concealed a wince. 

"You wish me to _kill_ you?" 

"No, not me," Erik muttered through grit teeth. "Him. Turn me back, _now_." 

Pink eyes crinkled in amusement. A bubbling giggle. 

"As you wish." 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)


	7. Waves of the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saraj gone, Erik struggles to cope with living as his former self. Prince Elian receives a welcome surprise in his chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thank you for sticking with me and this fic, it's lovely to think people still care about my story.
> 
> I've struggled a lot with mental health recently and haven't been able to interact with this lovely community as much as I normally would... I love all my readers and fellow creators so, _so_ much and hope you're doing well <3
> 
> **SPOILER ALERT: name of act III boss is mentioned once**

Erik bit down on the rose, careful not to crush the delicate stem between his teeth. 

But breaking the flower was the least of his worries. 

A stray piece of rock crumbled off the edge, plummeting to the gardens below. 

Erik narrowed his eyes, fixing on the inviting warmth of the window above him. The delicate lace of the inner curtain fluttered out in the breeze. 

He grinned. 

By now El would have just finished showering, sprawled back on his bed with a book in his lap. 

Half naked. 

Steadily, holding that image in mind, Erik's hand grasped the jutting stone above him, clambering up the side like a thief in the night. 

Insecurity gnawed at the edge of his mind– swirling thoughts roughly shoved away. El must want to see him. The real him. He said so on the balcony two months ago. 

Two months ago to the day. 

Limbs shaking, he pushed on. Higher and higher. To his highness' bedroom. 

The edge of the windowsill curved into his palm. He hauled himself up, heart pounding in his throat. 

He slumped on the ledge, legs dangling over the side. Elegant rose bushes sat below him: mere, insignificant blobs. 

The rose clutched between his teeth was far more precious. Not held in even the prestigious walled gardens of Dundrasil. 

A Snærose. 

Found only by the crescent lake in the depths of the Snærfelt. Pure white petals that only opened in moonlight. 

Now in full bloom. 

Retrieving such a flower was a symbol of enduring love. One that would never fade. 

Nausea pooled in his stomach. He glanced behind him. 

And tore the lace wide open.

* * *

  
Erik knocked tentatively on the elegantly carved door, mini medal gleaming down at him in the deep, glossy wood. 

"Piss off I'm busy!" 

Erik grinned. Shakily opened the door. 

"I said piss OFF," she muttered, scrawling into her work book. His little sister– working _hard?_ His smile broadened. 

Mia lifted her head. Her chest rose sharply. 

"Erik? Is it really you?" 

"Sure is," he mumbled, eyes quickly darting from the mirror. He barely recognised the pasty, almost too pale to be healthy, man in the reflection, mildly repulsed whenever he caught sight of the walking corpse that he inhabited. 

Saraj was golden, embodying the sun– life. He: the frozen winter. A slow death. 

Mia's eyes burst with tears. Dropping her pen, she lunged at him with all the force of a wild snowstorm. Erik tumbled back against the wall, holding his sister in his arms. 

She wept into his chest. 

"I've missed you so much." 

"I've missed you too, trouble." Erik pulled back, cheeks wet. 

Maybe this repulsion was worth it. 

His sister's love. 

"Workin' hard I see?" 

Mia roughly scrubbed at her eyes. 

"Well, duh! How am I gonna be super rich and famous if I don't study." She folded her arms with a pout. "Monsieur said I should be a lawyer. Put me in exams two years above my level coz he thinks I have somethin'." 

"Well, I can't imagine a man in Erdrea who could win an argument against you." 

Mia huffed and turned away. "Yeah! Oh, and if your dumb ass ever gets in trouble again, I can bail you out. Erdrea's top lawyer." 

Erik tipped his head to the side. "Oh, so you're lookin' out for me?" 

"You wish!" 

Erik smiled softly and settled on her bed. "How's the girlfriend?" 

Mia tensed. Her fists balled. "Stupid." 

"You guys had an argument?" 

Mia huffed and fell down on the bed beside him. "I hate her." 

Erik reached an arm out to her. "Talk to me, kid." 

"She stole something, Erik! For me. Stupid bitch got caught. She's been suspended for a month. If she does anything again she'll be gone _forever_." 

Erik laughed softly. "A little trouble maker like you, huh?" 

Mia glared, eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Why does this shit always happen to people close to me? I'm a bad fuckin' luck charm." 

Erik swallowed. "Hey, don't be silly. You're a smart kid. It's not your–"

"But it _is_ my fault. I got her into stealing." She scowled deeply. "'Sides, her parents hate me anyway. It was never gonna work."

Erik arched a brow. 

"Don't look at me like that. Didn't do nuthin'. Just not ' _high class_ ' enough." 

Erik grasped her shoulders. "Isn't that a reason to be with her more? Out of spite. Stick it to those stupid rich fucks!" 

A shadow of a smile tugged at Mia's lips. 

"Just think how mad they'll be… Paying for a whole bigass wedding, watching their daughter walk down the aisle with Erdrea's _top_ lawyer. A kid from Sniflheim who made it big." 

Mia cackled. "You know what, you're right. For once." 

Erik squeezed her arm lightly before letting go. 

Mia rubbed her palms together. "She's back home right now… in her big, fancy mansion but… maybe I could climb through her window. Make up for lost time." 

_Make up for lost time._

Why did those words hurt? 

Erik shakily ran a hand through blue spikes. "I could drop you there if you want?" 

Mia scowled. " _Ew_. No. I don't want you cramping my style." 

Erik laughed. "Okay, I get it. You're a grown woman now. Don't need me hanging around, dragging you down." 

"Right!" Mia nodded sharply, offering a toothy grin. "How's the dumbass prince?" 

Erik swallowed. "We aren't seeing each other anymore. My choice. Not a big deal." 

The cold inn bed. The lonely nights. He pushed them away. 

Mia's lips faltered. "Oh?" 

"But I'm gonna see him soon. See if he wants some of _this_." He gestured widely to himself, faking the best confident smirk he could. 

"Well if he doesn't… There's always Sylv!" Mia tapped her lip mischievously. "He has a nice house… rich papi." 

"Mia!" Erik shoved at her side. "This has nothin' to do with you loving the beach there?" 

"Nothing at all, dear brother. Heh." 

Erik broke out into a low chuckle. 

"It'll be okay, you know?" she said softly. "Things will work out for the best." 

Erik pulled her close. A heartfelt encouragement? Mia really was maturing. 

"EW!" she muttered, though made no effort to move. "You're so gross…" 

* * *

Erik silently leapt off the window sill. 

To an empty bed. 

His chest leadened. 

Alone. Cold. 

His eyes danced back to the lace curtain. He could leave now. No one would ever know. Maybe he should. Maybe it would be for the best. 

Loud footsteps resounded along the hall. 

Erik dove into the bed, Snærose still stuck between his teeth. He shuffled awkwardly. Adjusted his pose. Sexy… _Seductive_ – like the first time Saraj walked in here. 

The door to the ensuite opened. 

El almost dropped his towel. 

A thought that had Erik's pulse racing. 

"Erik?!" 

El's eyes brimmed, hand on mouth. 

"It's me, sugar tits." 

El choked on tears. 

In a blur, El's body crushed into his, kissing him deeply, softly, with _need_. 

Erik huffed, arms settling on El's hips. "Well it's nice to see you too." 

_Was it really that easy? Just sneak in and lie in his bed?_

He couldn't ignore the nagging thought that he'd wasted time. 

"What's that in your mouth? It's cold and–" El's eyes widened. "A Snærose?!" 

Erik cleanly removed the cool stem from his lips, nestling it into El's wet hair. 

"Like before…" he mumbled. "Another rose." 

"Hey, who else has been gettin' you these? Pretty hard to get if I recall." 

"Oh! Uh…" El sat back on Erik's hips. Pulled the towel back over himself. "Sorry, I just realised I kissed you."

"What do you mean you just realised?" Erik poked, pinching El's cheek. "You _literally_ ate my face." 

El huffed quietly. Then narrowed his eyes. "How did you get past the guards? You didn't do what you did to that poor Heliodoran guard when we first met, did you?" 

"Hmph, no. Charmed my way in here." 

El sucked hot air through his teeth. "Are you gonna charm me?" 

"I don't have to. You're already under my spell." 

"Mm… but I'd prefer to be under you, sexy." 

Erik grinned, taking in the perfect vision of his moonlight bathed prince, damp skin glistening softly. 

Hungry eyes met his own. 

* * *

Erik stumbled out of the alley, unable to stop his hands tugging at his hair. 

Blue… _spikes?_

Much rougher than Saraj's gentle golden curls. 

That witch really had delivered on her promise, her magic still tingling on the tip of his tongue. 

Now he just had to keep up his end of the deal. But not yet. 

His step halted. 

_Now what?_

He couldn't return to the castle, not while El was still drunk and miserable, mourning the loss of a man who never existed. 

An inn, he supposed. 

But not here. 

The shops wouldn't be open at such a late hour so chimera wings wouldn't be an option. 

Better to make the short journey to Octagonia. 

The trek passed like a blurred dream, a spellbound Erik barely able to remember the monsters shying away from him– even though he had no weapon. 

Something he was too tired to consider. 

The sounds of the packed bar thrummed into his skull, former fighters chanting loudly, slamming the surface to get the bar man's attention. 

It was eerie. Turning up to Octagonia one day and the place built on fighting now a hot spot for gambling and debauchery. 

Erik never was a gambling man. 

But the debauchery… maybe it was time for a distraction. 

The ridiculous silk that Saraj wore was bringing him far too much attention, leaving him a little flustered and embarrassed. Erik would never wear something so ridiculous. 

But maybe he could play it to his advantage. 

"He keeps lookin' at ya, hon."

A swaying Whambelina nudged him with her elbow. 

"Oh?" 

"Vince. He has a thing for pretty boys." 

"Vince?!" Erik shoved his empty glass away. "I'd rather get kicked in the face by Jade again than go back with that cannibal motherfucker. Probably try suck my blood or somethin'." 

Whambelina giggled behind her palm. "Oh, sweetheart. You gotta pick someone– practically the whole bar is tryna grab your attention." 

"Hm." 

She gasped delightedly.

"Oh _golden boy!_ Would you look at that, my sweet is callin' for me! Better leave you two in peace." 

She offered a heavy wink. 

Erik turned around. "So you wanna–" 

_Saraj._ Erik's vision blurred with gold. 

No, _no_ this was golden boy. Not Saraj. And he was cute. 

And he really didn't want to go to bed alone tonight. And Sylv said he was sweet. 

"Ahem." He leant casually back against the bar. "What can I get ya?" 

Golden boy raised an amused brow. "A top, huh? Or power bottom, I can't decide." 

"You'll find out if you're lucky," Erik offered slyly. 

Could he really do this? After he left his love crying on a balcony? 

"I have a feeling I'm getting lucky tonight," he murmured, walking him back against the bar. 

"Woah," Erik sighed, biting his lip as his arms came around him. "You aren't nearly as cute and sweet as Sylv said you were." 

"Cute?" he murmured, lips brushing Erik's. "I eat boys like you for breakfast." 

* * *

Moonlight trickled between the lace of the prince's curtains, bathing the room in a soft blue. 

But El was far softer. 

Neck warm and smooth, thighs tender. 

Erik bit down. El's gentle mewls and whines flushed him with pleasure, soft sighs melting into the air. 

So soft, so pliant under his hands. Gentle. Angelic. 

He was making love to an angel. 

An angel with heavenly legs spread like wings, closed around his back. 

Tears fell. 

The angel wept. 

Gorgeous blue eyes opened. A paradise contained within. 

"Erik?" 

Goddess, that hurt. His name. His real name. Whispered in the passions of urgency. 

"Mm?" 

El's hands wrapped around the back of his neck. 

It was only then Erik realised he'd stopped moving. 

"Please?" he breathed. 

Chaste, bright, cool kisses brushed his chin, his cheek. A gentle nip. 

Erik squeezed his eyes shut. Then open. 

"I gotchu, partner." 

El gasped. His hair, a halo on the plush pillow. Hands, digging into his hair. A divine touch. 

All sense of corruption gone. 

Erik moaned loudly, gently rolling his hips over his lover's. A sweet, perfect rhythm. One that left them both gasping. 

Erik buried his head in El's neck. Sucked lightly. 

Only partly to hide the tears. 

Saraj was no longer here. 

They were free.

... 

"I haven't done that in ages," El mumbled blissfully. 

"Liar. Everyone knows the prince gets passed around by the guards after every training session." 

El gasped. He smacked the corner of the duvet over Erik's face. "Speak for yourself, love." 

"Hey!" Erik shoved him away. "Sorry, Mister I've-only-slept-with-three-people." 

"Two, actually." 

"But…" 

That didn't make sense. There was him, Sari… and the previous lover El mourned. Technically two people, yes, but El didn't know that. 

Unless he was lying. 

About the lover or the number. 

Who did he trust more: Erik or Sari? 

Erik swallowed. 

El arched a brow. 

"Whatever," he mumbled. 

"What's wrong sweet pea?" 

"Just… Things have changed, is all." 

"Mm…" El brushed hair from his cheek. "But I've always found you sexy. Hard to resist." 

Erik scowled. Batted his hand away. "It never seemed that way." 

"Well…"

"There been anyone else?" he asked pointedly. 

A stupid, blinding jealousy seized his chest. One he had no right to feel. _He_ was the other man. The very man he despised. 

"A man I loved. But he's gone now and… I found a naughty little thief in my bed." El stroked up the side of his face. "Probably out to steal something?" 

"Something that was _taken_ a long time ago." 

El recoiled. "You're one to talk! You've– Oh! Sorry that was rude."

Erik's mouth closed. His brow furrowed. "I had a long term partner until recently, actually." 

El reached out with shaking palms. "You broke up?" 

"No I'm cheating on him with you, dumbass." 

El sniffed, hand digging into his hair. "Erik," he pleaded. 

His shoulders shuddered. Erik wrapped him up in his arms. 

"Hey…" 

"I think I understand." El wiped his eyes. "We're both recovering from break ups and clung onto someone familiar… you don't really want me."

Erik groaned. "Babe if you even knew the lengths I went to to be with you…" 

El rubbed his eye wearily. 

"So you want to be with me… or was it a one time thing?" 

Erik took his hands. "Babe I…" He swallowed. "More than anything." 

Tears tumbled down El's cheeks. 

Their lips met in a tangled, teary mess. 

El pulled him down into the bed.

"Tell me everything." 

* * *

Soft snores vibrated against his chest. 

A sleepy prince in his arms, curled up like a lap cat. 

Erik lightly scratched the back of his neck. 

A gentle purr. 

Erik smiled. His sweet little lap cat. 

Much healthier than when Saraj left, too, the ghostly pale replaced with warm, rosy cheeks and tanned skin. 

It was in the way he spoke, too. 

How he enthused about all the projects he'd undertaken in the lower town, sheets loosely wrapped around his naked body. 

A new drainage system he said. Public allotments for crops. 

He's listened. 

And stopped drinking, too. 

The Luminary's light shone brightly. 

The sleepy prince whined softly. 

Erik sighed contentedly. 

The urge to touch him was overwhelming, thrumming in his palms and through the beat of his heart. 

Quivering lips brushed his cheek. Then his nose, his forehead. His mouth. 

Laughter huffed against his lips. Ghosted his cheek. A sleepy head nuzzled into his chest. 

"Erik…" 

"Yes angel?" 

"Warm," he mumbled. 

Erik kissed his cheek. "You're a clingy lil sabrecub, huh?" His hand traced down his bare spine, below his waistband, giving him a hearty pinch. 

El giggled. "Cheeky." 

Erik kissed up his face, along his jaw, down his neck. He pressed his nose into the curve of El's cheek. 

"You're so perfect," he mumbled, lips pressing at his skin. "My gorgeous, sexy prince." 

Needy arms looped around his neck. Dug into his hair. "You've got bed hair… curly boy." El leant into him. "Sheepy boy… Cute little lamb." 

Erik huffed against his cheek. 

Lamb. To the slaughter of love. 

El's warmth was suffocating. He desperately wanted to surrender to it. 

But his bladder said otherwise. 

"Baby?" 

"Mm?" 

"I need a piss." 

El giggled, shifting closer. "I'm not into that." 

Erik grinned. "Guess I gotta go to the bathroom, then?" 

El gripped onto him tightly. "No," he grumbled. 

"Babe, I'm about to burst!" 

El gripped his body tighter, rolling on top of him. 

Erik swallowed a whimper. 

"No," El said defiantly. "I lost you for a year so I'm not letting you go." 

Erik kissed his cheek: lightly, softly. "I'm just goin' to the bathroom, baby." 

El loosened his grip, eyes still tightly shut as he groaned. 

Bless him. 

He'd never been a morning person– not even during their quest to save Erdrea. Nothing could get that boy up in the morning. It would probably be another hour before Erik could coax him out from underneath the sheets. 

"Promise?" he mumbled, voice trembling with uncertainty. 

"I swear it," Erik said firmly. "On Mia's life." 

The words stung his tongue. But he meant every one. 

El reluctantly rolled off his chest, burrowing his head into the pillow. "She'd kill you if she heard you say that." 

Erik chuckled, El's oversized night clothes hanging loosely over his body as he slipped out of the bed. 

Gold flashed in his vision. Bright, golden guilt. His sister's face: frozen gold. 

He swallowed. 

"Back in a second, sweet cheeks." 

"Hey–" 

El's arms snuck around his waist. He nuzzled his face against Erik's stolen trousers and giggled. "Sweet cheeks." 

Erik groaned. "Maybe if you let me go you could get up in 'em?" 

El laughed sunnily, face still firmly buried in Erik's skin. " _Nice_." 

A pillow to the head knocked him back onto the bed. 

Erik smirked, strolling over to the door. 

His lover, bundled up in the sheets. Eager for him. The _real_ him. 

"Erik…" he mumbled, pillow still covering his face. 

The idiot. 

"Yes sleepy?" he groaned, feigning annoyance. 

"Don't be long?" 

Erik sighed deeply. Oh _baby._

"I won't. Just be a second." 

Erik swung the bathroom door open. 

He ran a smug hand through his hair– hm. El was right, it _did_ feel messy. But not in the usual way. He probably looked a goddess awful mess… especially with the way El matted his hair last night–

His eyes caught the edge of the mirror. 

His head hit the wall. 

Panic stole his breath. 

" _No._ No, no, NO!" 

* * *

"You know this will not be easy." 

Erik ran his hand through blond curls– curls couldn't wait to rid himself of. "What do I have to do?" 

"Well, the enchantment I placed on you is very strong indeed. As strong as the love that binds you." She giggled, pressing a finger to her lips. "There is only one way to break the seal on such an enchantment. Undo what has been done. Divert the river to its original course." 

"Just spit it out!" 

"You have 3 cycles of the moon to secure true love's first kiss… as your _former_ self, then the charm will be reversed."

Erik bit his lip. 

"But… if the kiss you share is not true love's first… you will fade back into Saraj and remain as him _forever._ Is that a risk you are willing to take?" 

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat. "No shagging around. Got it, lady." 

"Close your eyes, breath deeply."

Erik's eyes fell shut like leaden curtains. As if he hadn't shut them himself. 

The icy press of her palm on his forehead chilled his bones. 

A shiver trickled through his blood. 

"Breathe," she hummed, magic pulsing from her fingertips. "Shed your golden exterior. Succumb to the beautiful blue waves of the deep." 

* * *

Erik held his eyes shut tight. Exhaled deeply. 

A vivid dream. A living nightmare. That was the only explanation. Soon he would wake up in Dundrasil, sleepy prince in his arms– _Erik._

Not _this_. _This…_

He peeked through one eyelid. 

And slammed his fist against cold stone. 

He half expected the blood that pooled on his knuckles to bleed out gold. 

Just like the rest of his being. 

_True love, true love, true love, true love, true love, true love–_

He ran a bloodied hand over the slope of his cheek, smearing crimson over glowing golden skin. 

El wasn't his true love. 

Two jewels of topaz. Bronzed skin. Hair of spun gold. _Saraj_. 

Seconds later that same hand clasped his mouth, concealing a sob. Blood stung his tongue. 

"Erik?" 

But Erik was gone. 

_Forever._

"Erik?" 

Shuffling in the sheets. The door was a crack open. 

"I'm fine, baby! Just a sec…" 

"You said you wouldn't be long!" 

"No!" He sharply took air through his nose. "Close your eyes I… have a surprise for you, angel." 

Could he really do this? Expose himself for the fraud he really was? 

His heart thundered wildly, erratically. 

Breathe. 

El giggled softly. "My eyes are closed. Get in here you gay idiot. I'm _horny_." 

He laughed bitterly. Glanced back in the mirror. Body coated in sickly sweet gold. Crimson on his lips. 

Blood on his hands. 

He took a slow, heavy breath. Pushed at the door. 

El lay sprawled in the sheets, eyes dutifully covered. 

"I can hear you breathing, creep." 

Saraj huffed nervously, all too aware of his molten gold shell. An empty shell. 

Limbs shaking, he clambered on top of his partner, holding his hands firmly over his eyes. 

Then he kissed him. 

Deep, hot, saddened. 

The edges of his vision blurred. 

El's hands settled on his hips. 

"Are _you_ my surprise?" 

Erik swallowed a sob. "Guess I am pretty surprisin'." 

"Mm…" El reached to peel his hands away. "Somehow looking hotter each time I see you." 

Saraj clamped his hands over El's face. "No!" 

El huffed. "Moody. C'mere and let me love you, mister grumpy." 

El's arms snaked around his back. 

Love. 

True love. El wasn't his true love. Everything he'd done was worthless. 

He'd killed Erik. 

A droplet of crimson stained the sheet. 

He'd killed Erik.

He'd meant to kill Saraj but he'd killed Erik. 

Blood on his hands. 

"Sweetheart, I can feel you panicking. Tell me what's wrong?"

"Just… lemme grab something from the side," he rushed. "For your s-surprise. Eyes closed or you'll ruin it." 

A statement he sealed with a kiss. 

"But I wanna see your pretty face," El whined, cupping his cheek. 

"You can't." 

_Never again._

"Oh?" 

Saraj held his breath. 

"Go on, grab the thing." 

"The thing?"

"From the side?" 

"Oh! That! Heh." 

Saraj kissed him with trembling lips. Then dove in for another. Not breaking contact. 

"Erik stop!" El sat up. "Look my eyes are still shut just… I know when you're kissing me like that it's coz you have something to say. That you don't want to say." 

Saraj sat back, eyes wide. Cheeks wet. 

"Tell me, idiot." 

El brought him in, sensing him from touch alone. 

"I'm a prick," he mumbled miserably. "Everyone's gonna hate me. Especially Mia. And you." 

"Well that's not true. We are two of the people who care about you most in all Erdrea, silly." 

"Some things are unforgivable." 

"Why? Did you kill someone?" he teased. 

Erik dodged his touch. "Lemme grab the thing," he said, slipping off the bed. 

"Erik–" 

Erik ignored him, running his hands frantically over the dresser. 

Saraj stared back. 

El sat patiently on the bed. 

Trapped. 

The inner lace of the curtain blew in the window. 

Saraj glanced back at the man he loved. Eyes closed. Trusting. 

Tears pricked his eyes. 

"I think it's just here–" 

He tugged blindly at a drawer– _the_ drawer. 

Locked tight. 

Maybe not so trusting. To him or Saraj. 

His heart lurched. 

That's what he'd tell himself. 

Eyes falling shut, he found his body edging towards the blow of the curtain. The call of the wind. 

At least when Jade came to cut Erik's head off she'd never find him. 

A dead man. 

Saraj pressed a foot to the window sill. 

"What are you doing? You're so silly," El mumbled sleepily. He giggled. "I love you." 

A tear trickled down his cheek. "I love you too, angel." 

_On Mia's life._

He didn't know who he was anymore. Erik, Saraj… it didn't matter. Except that he loved El so much it burned. 

And that he was nothing without him. 

So he swung out of the window. 

Gone. 

* * *

A thick, oppressive fog swirled in Erik's head. Endless black mass twisting into deep purple. Stars above him. 

El flopped down. 

"You good?" Erik mumbled, sitting up hazily, entirely disorientated. 

He glanced around. The desert evening? 

El rolled his eyes. 

Erik laughed, not quite in control of his body. "One of those, huh?" 

El leant into his side, arms looping around Erik. "I'm scared. What if I…" 

El's eyes flickered to the deep purple star polluting the sky. 

"Screw it up?"

The star. _Calasmos_. 

The night before. 

El huffed. His grip tightened. 

"Well, we won't be around to see it so it won't affect us," he said coolly. 

"Erik!" El pouted. 

"It's the truth! C'mon, partner, look at the stars with me. Promise you'll feel better?"

* * *

Saraj ran through the upper town, tears blurring his vision. 

He's lost everything. Everyone. 

Shaky feet carried him to the lower town. He caved in an alleyway. Trembling hands scrubbed at his face. 

It was a near miracle he made it out without getting caught. Lucky the guards were so stupid. 

"Are you okay, my love?"

A kindly, middle-aged woman knelt in front of him, offering her hand. 

"Oh you poor thing, don't you have anywhere to go?" 

"I'm– I'm fine! Piss off!" Tears gushed down his cheeks. 

She sat back on her knees. "Well that wasn't very polite, now was it?" 

Erik frowned. He'd never been any good with manners or appealing to the "polite" standards of the older generation. Hopefully she'd take the hint and leave him alone. 

The woman smirked, pointed teeth glistening in the low light. 

"All beauty and no brains, aren't you, sweetheart?" 

Saraj tensed. 

She clicked her fingers. 

A man emerged from the shadows. 

His eyes darted between the two figures. 

" _Traffickers_." 

Bitter frustration pierced him. He'd heard of many people being snatched in Heliodor. Some of them his friends. He should know better than to sit in dark alleys. 

"Why don't you make it easy for us, sweetheart? Just stay still so we don't have to hurt your pretty face." 

Saraj breathed deeply. "Okay. I'll give myself up," he uttered brokenly. 

The woman smiled sharply. 

"Good boy." 

Saraj stepped forward, ready to offer himself up. 

Then dove under her arm, sprinting for the exit.

Feet slapped against cool stone. His heart thudded in his chest. A brief glance back. 

They weren't giving chase. 

Saraj grinned. She didn't look in too great shape, and he was far too bulky to be agile. 

He was free, nowhere to go but entirely free–

A thunderbolt shook his spine. 

Magic trickled down his back, through his veins. A headiness flooded his muscles. A haziness to his skull. 

"N-No–" 

The colour faded from his vision. 

_Sleep._

* * *

El lay next to him, stars stretching above their heads in the purple hazed sky. 

He was so warm. A stark contrast to the cold, hard ground. Unforgiving stone. 

Their cheeks brushed. 

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." 

Erik laughed quietly. 

El's eyes grew watery. His head burrowed into his chest. 

"Hey, I'm not dying on you. Silly." 

Erik held him tightly in his arms. He brushed a kiss to his cheek. 

That seemed to settle him. 

And Erik. Who tumbled into a deep, dark slumber by his side. 

A willing victim to the waves of the deep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please yell (or gently express your feelings) in the comments! I love hearing your theories and reactions <3
> 
> I completely rewrote the Sari leaving scene, if you would like to read the original let me know! I will probably chuck it on my tumblr :3
> 
> Next chapter: _we find out what's in El's magic drawer_


	8. Out of Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Branded with a new name by his captors, Sijiyn reluctantly falls into his new life as a server in Erdrea's most profitable bar. An old friend pays him a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a month! I really hope people still wanna read this... 
> 
> Two fics in particular inspired this chapter:
> 
> [The Ogler's Digest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246032/chapters/43171823) by Claranon (for revealing the True writer behind the gentlemen's periodical) 
> 
> [When Home isn't Marked on the Map ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323998/chapters/58643557) by Midnight_Marimba (thank you for helping me add emotional depth to these characters!)
> 
> **Chapter warnings**
> 
> \- Mentions of past Viking physical and emotional abuse
> 
> \- Brief mention of a past ED
> 
> \- Human trafficking (a character is imprisoned & traded for gold)
> 
> \- exploitative relationship/ power imbalance (Mony is a prick)

Sijiyn breathed deeply, head nestled in the warmth of her chest. He smiled wryly. If only he was into women. They were softer, warmer. Carried an openness most men feared. Not trapped by the suffocating bind of masculinity. 

Her hand gently scratched over his scalp. 

Mony leant over, his weight crossing his back, and kissed her deeply. Sijiyn's head was tipped to the side. Lips pecked. 

"You two be good. I'm fetching breakfast." 

He'd had stranger arrangements when traveling the world. 

Sandwiched between a married couple wasn't the worst place to sleep. 

He'd insisted Mony slept there, too. It was only polite after he offered him his bed. He couldn't have the guy on the floor, exploitative capitalist or not. 

And things had happened. As they always tended to with the man known currently as Siji whenever he clambered in bed with strangers. 

He could hardly act like he was innocent of fuelling the fire. Yes, they'd been close, the three of them in one modest bed, but had he really needed to kiss the man in charge of his fate? 

Perhaps it was boredom. Or a way to shove down the pain of the man he left. The man who was not his true love. 

It mattered little. In this moment he was safe. 

In the arms of a woman with more money than sense (a pile of gold and absolutely zero sense).

And waiting for the man who bought him from a trafficker to set him to work. 

Things could be worse. 

* * *

Sijiyn dipped to his knees, sliding the heavily laden gold platter from his bejewelled arm. He gracefully offered each man their gleaming goblet, beads jingling at his temple as he bowed his head. 

If he thought his other outfits were ridiculous– the yards of silk he wore as Saraj– then this was another whole level of debauched. 

Two bronzed thighs shimmered in the lurid purple light, exposed. Sheer golden fabric hung from the bejewelled band at his hips, the two strips at his back and front offering little cover. As did the tiny faux gold breastplate, set with what could only be glass rubies. His breath was hot and stifling, trapped beneath a sheer silk veil. 

He could feel their gaze linger on his form as he walked away. 

Kohl rimmed amber eyes stared blankly ahead, uncaring of the glances. 

Tonight's outfit was a little better than yesterday's grass skirt, he supposed. 

Or the ridiculous "sexy sabrecat" outfit from a few nights ago. It was a miracle the tail didn't fall apart with the number of times people tugged on it.

There wasn't part of him that hadn't been stared at. 

"Siji–" came the drunken, slurred call. 

He slipped behind the bar. 

Mony's arms brushed his sides. 

Sijiyn stood silently. 

"Did you get them to order another round of drinks, Siji?" 

"Yes." 

He felt the kisses on his neck, cool and sparse. Guess that sorted where he was sleeping tonight. 

Not that he minded nestling between Mony and his wife. Human contact. Something. 

He could barely claim it a loss of dignity when very little remained. 

Mony's hand stroked his bare waist. "Later." He gave him a firm pat. "Go. Seduce some more rich fools into buying drinks." 

"Yes, Mony," he whispered, his no longer forced Gallopolitan accent now fully fledged. He barely remembered what he used to sound like. 

There was no point trying, he was Saraj. 

Or _Sijiyn_. That was how he was known now. 

* * *

He– the man who inhabited this cracked golden shell– groaned softly. Thin canvas above him. Hard ground beneath him. Unbearable heat. 

Feet padded softly. 

He sat up, cursing as bound wrists rubbed against harsh rope. 

"Oh don't do that," the woman scolded. "You'll wound yourself, precious." 

The same predatory smile from the alley. 

He shuffled back. 

She advanced all the same, claws out, ready to pounce. 

Jagged fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his cheek. 

"You're even more beautiful in the desert glow. Will fetch a pretty penny, too." 

He swallowed. Better not to talk back. Not to think of the implications of what she just said. 

"What is your name, precious?" 

"I don't have one," he mumbled. Erik was gone. Saraj was a ridiculous name. _Saddle_ – used, worn and ridden then discarded. There was no identity to cling to. 

Her prying eyes flickered at the candor of his confession. 

She laughed emotionlessly. "A child born into slavery and given no name? That is sad." 

His breath shallowed _._

 _Vikings and crates and beatings._

He _did_ have a name. At least he used to. 

Cast away in the haste of all consuming love for a man who did not truly love him. 

She forced his chin up. "I think I shall call you Sijiyn. The language of your people is ever so beautiful I thought I may borrow from it." 

Sijiyn. Now that did sound familiar. 

It tingled at the edge of his mind, a faded memory. 

"Do you like it?" 

" _Na'am_." 

His lips froze on the word. Where had that come from? He knew bits and pieces of Gallopolitan speak, but had never reflexively answered in their language. 

A symptom of the witch's spell or a result of his frazzled, heat addled mind, he wasn't sure. The two blended into shimmering gold in his mind's eye. 

Saraj was taking over. Or was it Sijiyn? 

"Excellent. You may call me Mistress." 

He winced. Sickly sweet rose scented fingers pinched at his cheek. 

"We're going to have to lose some of this puppy fat, dear. Could definitely get more gold if you were a little less chubby." 

The pit of his stomach churned. 

Vikings. 

Constantly berating him. Making comments they knew would grind him down. Maintaining control. Keeping him trapped. 

_"Ought to cut his bread rations, his face is round enough."_

_"Put the chubby one to work. He could use the exercise."_

It had taken many, many nights of Derk assuring him that he _did_ deserve food, and many more refusing it, followed by El's gentle love-infused cooking for him to slowly unravel that thinking. 

Suddenly the rope felt a lot tighter. Wound tightly around him. He couldn't breathe. 

Rough palms forced his chin up. Glassy amber eyes gazed into fierce blue. 

"You're staying bound for the entire journey. Any trouble and I'll have Alexi discipline you, is that understood?" 

Alexi. The bulky man from the alley. 

His breath quickened. His parched mouth couldn't form the words. 

A blunt smack to the face knocked him back. 

He let the tears fall. His head hurt. He needed water. Didn't dare ask. 

"I said, is that understood?" 

He nodded tearfully. 

"Good boy." Mistress wiped her palm on her shawl with disgust. "I'll make sure you are fed before we arrive at the city gates. We'll take you to the nice baths as a treat. Get you all cleaned up." 

"Thank you, Mistress," he mumbled. 

She smiled coldly. "So well trained." 

Sijiyn closed his eyes. 

And then she was gone.

* * *

Sijiyn stared off at the wall. 

How many months had it been? Rotting in the lewd lights of Mony's bar. His soul fragmented in different colours and names– the shards not quite fitting together as a whole. 

An ugly mosaic of misidentity. 

A passing sailor blurted out a barely coherent remark. 

He smiled with gratitude. 

Well trained. Tamed 

A captured sabrecat peering through the bars of its cage. Unable to remember the outside world. 

His muscles aching from the 12 hour shifts. Cheeks sore from the forced smiles. Body weak from the lack of nourishment. 

Shattered soul unable to break any more. 

"Erik?" 

He turned his head sharply, caged heart ready to run wild at the sound of that name. The way it fell harshly on his ear. 

Brought back memories he didn't want to relive. 

He turned away, busying himself with polishing a smudged glass. Fate had a cruel way of teasing him. Of course there would be an Erik in the bar tonight. Of course–

Snap. 

A shard of thin filigree glass in his thumb. Another piece of soul. Blood steadily dripping. 

"Erik! Uh, _Sari?_ " 

His heart throbbed harder than his thumb. He yanked the shard out and threw it in the bin. It stung. 

He whipped his head around. 

Black slicked back hair. Knowing grey eyes. 

Sylv. Of course Sylv would be in a place like this. And he knew. He knew who lay trapped beneath the faux smiles and bronzed skin. 

He rushed forwards, leaning over the bar, desperate. Gold eyes darted away from the swirl of dark hair poking out of the top of his frilled purple shirt. Best not to so obviously stare. Especially when he was dating _the_ Sir Hendrik, head of the Heliodor guard... who could easily beat him to a pulp. 

"Well, well, well, look who it is," he purred. "And where is your dearest knight of Heliodor?" 

Sylv eyed the bottles of spirit behind him vacantly. The usual sparkle in his eye absent. The wrong question. 

"With another man." 

His chest tightened. He clutched his bleeding hand by his side. "But why on Erdrea–?" 

"Because I told him to." Sylv breathed a deep, heavy sigh. His lips stayed flat, unsmiling. "If he wants a stiff, emotionless relationship then he may as well be bedding strangers." 

He froze. Sylv– the very paragon of love– struggling with romantic feelings. Leaving the man he loved. His chest fell with a long withheld breath. 

"What about you, honey? Is there a reason you're dressed like a Gallopolitan dancer?" 

He narrowed his eyes. "Dare you not ask why I ran away? I assume you know the story of _Erik_ heartlessly leaving his lover in the midst of morning bliss?" 

A small pang. A little guilt on diverting the topic to himself. But he was so desperate to have a conversation, a real conversation, that he cast the feeling aside like broken glass. 

Sylv smiled softly. He reached for a ringed hand. 

Then gasped gently. His thumb stroked over the deep red slice, heal tingling over Erik's skin. 

Erik glanced away, chewing at his cheek. What he really didn't need right now was a scolding. 

"Now sweetie… I would hardly be one to judge running from someone you love. A habit I struggle to beat even in my old age." 

Erik smiled wearily. "You're not _that_ old." 

"Well, old enough to know better, at least." He leant over the bar, breath reaching Erik's cheek. "Mimosa please, darling." 

He reached for the bottle, reluctantly slipping his hand from Sylv's healing touch. The first affection he'd felt in months. 

"I know what you did with our sweet golden boy," Sylv cooed. 

He smiled. His accent wasn't the only one that had grown stronger, the sunny beaches of Puerto Valor seeping into his words like honey. A little more sultry than usual. 

But this was Sylv. Flirting was his default. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I know what _you_ did. The poor boy's in love with you." 

Sylv sighed belatedly. "I have that effect." 

"Not on me." 

"And why is that, dearest Saraj?" 

Saraj playfully shoved his drink at him. "I know when you talk to me it is not because I am special. You talk to everyone like this." 

"And why is it that you don't think you're special?" 

"Mm… Maybe special isn't the right word? How about…" He tapped a finger to grinning lips. "Stupid. Gullible. Naïve? In that I will not drop to a man's feet at the slightest hint of attention." 

Sylv laughed behind his palm. "I see your three months of escapades has made you even more feisty, mm?" 

Saraj's smile faltered. This was the first time he'd shown resistance. Been recognised as Erik or Saraj. The past three months, _three months_ , had been gently appeasing, not teasing, men with more money than he could comprehend. An existence of tolerance. Obediently accompanying Mony to the back room when he asked, smiling warmly when customers made degrading remarks, a prettily painted shell with a hollow soul inside. 

He was taking control, he told himself, doing as he was expected. He was the one deciding to do those things, rather than being forced into it. 

He still had control. He could leave whenever he wanted. 

A mantra repeated daily from his time shifting crates for the Vikings. 

Choosing to do as he was told was better than the alternative of being beaten or worse, he reasoned, he wasn't trapped–

"Siiiii-ji!" Mony cried. "Move on! Serve another customer if he is not buying more drinks."

Sijiyn blanched. He'd forgotten about Sylv. Now he looked up at those softly made up eyes, he knew he couldn't bear to let go. 

He smiled brightly. Only partly forced. 

"But of course, you know who is gracing our presence? Why it is the Great Sylvando, the most fabulous and fashionable entertainer in all Erdrea! He has the choice of any bar but he chose yours, we should greet him warmly, don't you agree?" 

The greedy glint of gold flashed in Mony's eyes. 

"Heh, heh." He rushed forward. "I am Mony, you must know me as I know you! I am truly sorry I could not see that we were being graced by such a celebrity, the lighting is awfully dim." He offered an awkward bow. "My gorgeous host Siji will make you feel most welcome. Take him to the sapphire booth, Siji." 

Siji bowed his head to Sylv. 

"Of course. This way, Mr Sylvando" 

* * *

On instinct, he took Sylv's hand, leading him down the twisting silk laden tables. 

The faint tinkle of Krystalinda's laugh echoed through the bar. 

Joined hands snuck through the layers of heavy blue satin, into the small cushioned booth. A faux luxurious cove concealed from the outside world. 

Sylv smoothly knelt on one of the beaded cushions, hand slipping from his. 

He knelt beside him, elegantly sliding his drink onto the low table with practised grace. 

Sylv's hand came around his bangled wrist. "I've missed you, sweetie... We all have." 

He took in a sharp breath. 

"Now why don't you tell me about how you got here? I don't suppose Mony is a wonderful confidant." 

He carefully brushed Sylv's hand off his wrist, flashing a grin. "All he cares about is extorting customers for gold. Oh, and his dick is microscopic." 

Sylv burst into a peel of giggles. "Now honey, that's not very nice." He shifted a little closer, hand venturing to his knee. 

A small, muted gasp. From anyone else he would have barely felt the touch. But his skin tingled. Itched. For what he wasn't sure. 

He rolled the eyes. 

Sylv's mouth tightened. Reluctant to press the topic. He was always thoughtful like that. Having secrets of his own, he supposed. 

"You know, now I come to think of it, I did hear about a certain blue-haired thief leaving his lover…" Sylv shuffled to face him. And he instantly missed the warmth of his hand on his knee. "Tell me all about it! I'm sure you haven't had a listening ear for a while." 

He sighed heavily, pushing those memories away. The tower. El. He wished he could just forget. Forget it all. The blessing of amnesia. "Erik's gone. That's all you need to know." 

"Why honey, he's sitting right in front of me?" 

"No he's not!" he cried, bitterness cutting through his voice. "He's gone!" 

Sylv shimmied closer, unfazed. He reached an arm towards the low hanging ceiling. "Do you think Norberto ceased to exist purely because Sylvando emerged?" 

He sighed gently. 

"Or maybe they're the same person?" Sylv's hand came to rest on his chest. 

His breath stilled. Why did his body react to Sylv's touches like that? Even the smallest brush was sending his heart wild– the gentle, affirming press making him blush. "You're the same person, sweetie, with the same beautiful soul underneath." 

"But I'm stuck like this." His brows lowered, breath shallow with the sensation of Sylv on his bare skin. Dammit. Sylv wasn't even touching him like _that._ He needed to shut off that stupid brain of his. Before he wound his hand in his hair, seeking more. 

He sighed through clenched teeth. 

"I'm never gonna be Erik again– the witch… I fucked up the enchantment." 

Sylv shook his head, tsking softly. "Well, you said I. Doesn't that prove to you that you _are_ Erik? No matter what any witch has to say. You are you. Like our Ronnie!" He smiled boldly, brightly. Erik's heart ached. "She seems pretty content with her alternate form. Especially when she drops an almighty barrage of curses in front of a group of tourists." 

Erik smiled back. Glanced away. He felt a little stupid. Sylv had a way with that. Gently correcting flawed thinking. 

He cared too much. Or maybe just more than the people he'd been keeping company with. 

"You are you, honey. Never forget that." Sylv's hand gently fell away from his chest, lightly brushing his skin. 

Erik shivered. He resisted the temptation to grab onto Sylv and never let go. 

"And I'm very lucky to be sitting here with the one and only Erik, esteemed treasure hunter and all round world saver!" 

Erik offered him a wry smile. 

Then, he wasn't sure where it came from but:

"Sorry." 

Sylv's brows furrowed. "Darling, you have nothing to apologise for!"

"I was rude to you at the start. And I never apologised. I guess… I knew you were hiding somethin'." He shrugged sheepishly. "We both had secrets." 

"I guess we did. And you've got another big one behind the curtain, haven't you darling?" 

"I'm glad to share it with you," he breathed. 

Erik inched closer, leaning forward on his knees. 

Sylv's lips parted. 

Erik flinched back, suddenly conscious of how close they were. 

"Um, how have things been with you?" 

"Could be a little more rosy." Sylv's lips pinched. "Henny says I'm not the knight I used to be. And that the circus is frivolous. So I ran like a fool. To a seedy bar." 

His lashes fluttered downwards. Sombre. 

And Erik hated it. 

Sylv was full of life, lightening even the darkest of moods in camp. A fiery anger surged through his veins, shaking in his fists. 

"But you're smart, caring, considerate, perceptive… Every quality a knight could possibly need! If he doesn't see that..." Erik growled. Then sighed deeply. His voice softened. "He's stupid. You're the perfect knight." 

Sylv's head perked up, eyes shining in the candlelight. 

"Oh, darling!" Sylv's hand brushed elegantly under his lashes. "I never knew you had such a way with words." 

Erik's chest tightened. He reached around his hips, to where his sash should hang. 

Then gawped. 

Sylv had made him feel like him. _Erik_. He hadn't worn that sash in months. Not since he left El. His stomach clenched. His clothes left piled on that floor. 

"Darling, I don't think you could hide a handkerchief on an outfit like that." Sylv pulled silken square from his sleeve. 

Erik's hand was on his. "Here. Let me. Since it's my fault." 

Erik leant in, lightly dabbing under his eyes, careful not to smudge his immaculately applied mascara. 

"Better?" 

"Much better, sweetie." Sylv's hand found his cheek. "Thank you." 

Erik hovered there. In their shared space. Sweet violet radiated from Sylv's collarbone. Comfort. Freedom. 

His fingertips grazed the faint stubble of his jaw. Sylv's eyes fell on him, half lidded. 

"Erik," he breathed, fingers shifting up to lift the veil. 

Hot breath found sweet release in a long, drawn out sigh. A thumb pressed into his cheek. 

He felt it all at once. The longing, the bitterness, the tears. The warmth, the affection, the safety. The comfort of Sylv's mouth on his. An old friend. 

A tingling pulse buzzed between their joined mouths, forcing the breath from Erik's lungs. His left eye stung, but not with tears. 

Sylv blinked back at him. 

Erik smirked. As if he'd laid hands on a particularly prized jewel. He found his knees wedged around his thighs, body seated firmly in Sylv's lap. 

The current pulsed through his fingertips. 

Sylv raised an eyebrow. 

"I suppose this is the reason you brought me to your private booth?" 

Erik rolled his eyes, tugging at the purple lace of Sylv's collar. His jaw tightened. "This isn't a regular thing. I'm not a– I don't sleep with customers. It's forbidden." 

Erik tore at the veil, fabric ripping loudly. It was stupid anyway. Screw Mony and his ridiculous costumes. 

He leant forwards. And Sylv back. 

Hurt stabbed at his chest. Flickered in gold eyes. 

"And Mony? You… Does he make you feel good?" 

"Not anymore. But he's okay, really. Just clueless." Erik's hands slid to cradle Sylv's face. The lithe body beneath him relaxed. "Men are stupid and easier to shape than molten gold when you rule their passions." 

Sylv smiled at that. He planted a kiss just below Erik's jaw. "I never knew I was in the presence of a siren." His fingers idly dragged through his curls. Erik found himself keening into the touch. "Though your bold blue spikes always made me think of the sea of my home. And these beautiful curls are softer than the sand. An entire vista in one beautiful person." 

Erik smiled. He thought of that magazine Sylv slyly slid El at the banquet. Those ridiculous drawings of him in that fish tail. The "beach" shoot, drawn in the back of Ruby's Inn. A mythical look, she said. Sexy mermaid– the ultimate fantasy! 

He never really understood how anyone found that sexy. But it sold well. 

Men really were idiots. 

"Like my Digest feature, didja?" He bit his lip. Sylv was in his grasp. Snared in his net. 

Or he was in his. 

Either way… 

Gold eyes flickered orange. Ready to drag him to the bottom of the ocean. 

Storm grey eyes met his. Unwavering. 

"You could say I was partial to it." 

Sylv's mouth dipped to his chest, the same lips that breathed fire branding his skin with every press, touch and kiss. Erik's fingers slipped through slick hair. A sigh spilled from his lips. 

"Ruby said I'd be good for that," he groaned, hairs prickling. "That I have a way with getting money out of men." Erik rubbed the back of Sylv's neck encouragingly, jaw slack. The satin above them shimmered with each tiny glass jewel. 

Sylv's eyes flickered up. Recognition. 

"Erik, honey?" His eyes darted down, uncertain. 

Then he realised what he'd confessed. His panting breath stilled. 

"Some of my circus boys came from the street, too. So…" His hand ran a soothing course down Erik's back, a river meandering over bare skin. Less urgent. Soothing. 

Erik pressed a finger to his lips. "You don't need to say anything." 

He leant back in, brushing their mouths together. Sylv wound his arms tighter around his back, sighing. 

"Is that an invitation?" he mumbled against painted lips. 

"Mm?" 

"To the circus?" 

Sylv's lips quirked up. He drew back. His breath ghosted the shell of Erik's ear.

"Perhaps. You'd be quite the spectacle."

"Oh yeah?" Erik glanced him up and down. He smirked. "I sure know how to steal the show." 

* * *

Sijiyn let himself get shoved forwards. 

Wrists unbound. Still trapped. 

Alexi stood at the door, wobbling paper lanterns splashing his face a deep, angular red. 

"You won't find better quality than this," Mistress said. "A good worker too, obedient–" 

Mony turned around. Sijiyn scowled. He always thought Mony was one for dodgy deals, but trading _people?_ It was another layer of awful. 

He felt those beady eyes trace up and down his exposed figure. A small smile curved at his lips. 

Feet pattered against floorboards. Gold hungry hands found Sijiyn's cheeks. 

A little less plump than before. 

"And what's your name, sweetheart?" 

"Sijiyn." 

Mony's hands traced down his arms, brushing his waist. "What a pretty name, you'll fit right in." He glanced behind him to Mistress. "Why don't you go upstairs while we have a chat?" 

She nodded firmly, shoving him forwards. 

Head bowed, Sijiyn climbed the creaking wooden steps. 

He perched on the edge of the plush sofa in the lavishly decorated room. 

A soft faced woman with mousey hair sat beside him. Her hand sat on his knee. 

"Don't mind my husband. Why don't I pour you some tea, love?" 

His tense muscles unwound. Something about this woman brought back flashes of Ruby. 

A kind face in a seedy environment.

Mistress' voice was clear and sharp as her slaps. 

"200," she said firmly. 

"50." 

"50,000?" she screeched. "You insult me, sir." 

A shiver ran through his body. 

He knew it was coming. But the teacup trembled in his palm. 

The Vikings had always threatened to sell him and Mia off if they misbehaved. 

Now it was a reality. 

At least it was him, not her. 

The sudden pang of guilt threw his body forwards. The teacup clattered against the surface. 

He hadn't seen her in months– couldn't like this. Especially now he was someone else's property. 

"Don't be nervous." Her arm stroked soothingly over his shoulder. "My husband is unusual in his approach but he truly cares about his… workers." 

"You can just say prostitutes, you know," he said, a little unkindly. 

It wasn't her fault. 

She hastily set the tea down, eyes wide like a startled bunicorn. "Oh goodness NO! We run a high class themed bar for the more adventurous tourist! My husband rescues people like yourself and helps you find work and the best and most profitable bar in all Erdrea!"

He narrowed his eyes. _Rescued_. 

"Still sounds like a brothel. "

"Oh goodness, goodness, no! Customers are highly forbidden to sleep with staff. We operate a _look but no touch_ policy. It goes against our friendly atmosphere!" 

She beamed brightly. 

He eyed the chain on the wall. _Friendly_. 

She was as content as she was dense. 

Mony strolled back into the room, face beet red. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. 

At least he'd never have to see her again. 

"Welcome to the team, Siji," he said, wiping his sweaty palm on his forehead. 

The sparse, semi-rotting room in the basement was less welcoming. 

"You sleep here." He gestured to a dirtied sheet on the floor. 

Sijiyn stared blankly. Trying to calm the rising tide in his chest. Stop himself from drowning.

_El, why had he left El?_

Mony groaned. He roughly grasped his wrist. "You… speak my language? You!" He prodded his chest. "Sleep floor, yes? Do you understand me?" 

_Do you understand me?_

Sijiyn flinched back, ready for the slap. 

Mony paused. "Hey, no. Don't be scared. You'll be okay." His hand tentatively ruffled his hair. 

Tears bubbled in his eyes. He crumpled, in the strange place with the strange man in the strange body, weeping uncontrollably. 

Mony's mouth twitched. "You like my Penny, mm? Why don't you sleep up there with her. I'll figure something out. I don't want you to be scared." 

He scrubbed at his eyes. "Why not?" 

"Because… I just wanna make money. I don't wanna hurt anyone. I'll take you up. Make you some tea." 

* * *

Manicured fingers wove over the bumps and dips of Erik's spine, tender and knowing. He groaned. Reddened lips pressed nurturing words to his chest, his neck, the soothing whispers echoing in the recesses of Erik's memories. 

Strange. 

This was the first time they kissed– yet a mystical sense of familiarity, of intimacy, of magic, hung heavier than the satin of the ceiling with every, lightning, touch. 

He broke away, catching his breath. " _More,_ " he said raggedly, a swirling sense of need filling all his senses. 

Sylv offered a heady grin, dark hair loose and flopping in his face, shirt half undone. He'd never looked sexier. More Valoran. Sylv and Norberto. 

"Are you sure that's what you want?" 

" _Sí, Papi!_ " 

Sylv glared hotly. "You think I like that?" 

Erik giggled as his head was thrown back against the cushions. Sylv's hands ran over his thighs, lightly squeezing. He chuckled at the gentle squirm. 

Then his face was over his. Tousled black hair tickled his cheek. 

Slender fingers twined with his, gently pinning his arms above his head. 

"What are you gonna do to me, Señor?" he groaned, desperately wanting to feel that mouth all over his body. 

"Oh…" Sylv's hand let go of his and slipped up the front of his breastplate. "I'll make sure you get your _just_ punishment." 

The curtain fell open. The end of the show. 

"Siji?! What is this?" 

Mony's fists balled. Sylv froze. 

Erik slipped out from underneath him and righted his clothes. He glared up at Mony. Denying him any sense of enjoyment as usual. 

"Go downstairs. Now! I will deal with you later." Sijiyn flinched back, eyes tightly shut. "Mr Sylvando, I will politely ask you to leave. This boy is very important to me. I took it upon myself to care for him and I cannot have you ruining his good reputation–" 

"Care for me?" Erik snarled, eyes flying open. "You literally bought me from a trader! I'm your _slave_." 

Sylv's mouth opened, eyes unreadable. His arms crossed firmly over his chest. 

"Wait, no…" Erik shook wildly, trembling fingers tugging at alien blonde curls. Tears boiled hot and heavy in his eyes. He stumbled to his feet. "You, you… treat me like one. You…" 

Mony scoffed. " _You_ have a bed. You have food. _My_ bed and _my_ food! You should be grateful. If it wasn't for me you'd be a thief or a street-whore." 

The words stung Erik's throat. 

"Now go downstairs." 

A black stained tear dropped from Sylv's cheek. 

"Why the fuck should I be grateful for this meaningless existence? I'd take the other two options any day." 

Mony stepped forwards, cupping his cheek with false affection. "Look, Sijiyn, I don't know what this man has promised you–" 

Sijiyn. 

_Prisoner._

Mistress' laugh echoed in his head. 

"That's not my _damn_ name! My name is Erik," he cried, leaning into the r as they did in Sniflheim. "Sometimes I go by Saraj. But I am no-one's prisoner." 

He glanced between the two. Sylv smiled, tears in his eyes, an inky smear on his left cheek. 

Then Mony was on the floor. Silver platter by his head. Erik's hands shook. 

The urge to do this to Vikings had once been strong. And he'd snapped. 

"Shit." 

He extended a sweaty palm to Sylv. 

"We need to go. Wouldn't want you gettin' caught here." 

Sylv gracefully pulled himself up. He offered a curt nod. But didn't let go of Erik's hand. Erik noticed that. He squeezed it tighter. 

They burst through the silk curtain like a ship's bow through shimmering water. 

Laughter broke free from Erik's chest. They wove through the tables. Back to the bar. Glass smashed against stone with the sweep of his arm. 

Sylv shot him a barely scolding glance. 

Bare feet pattered down wooden steps. Out into the open. 

Erik paused. Breathed deeply through his nose. 

Outside. 

He hadn't been outside since he arrived here. A bird twittered on a branch. 

Mia _…_

_If we had wings, we could fly away from here._

Sylv tugged on his arm. "Honey..?" 

_We could go wherever we wanted._

Erik jolted. Sylv's eyes gazed down at him, warm and sympathetic. 

"I haven't been outside," he mumbled, glancing at the stone steps down to the outside world. "Not once. I forgot what it's like." 

Sylv's eyes widened, glossy. He dabbed at his cheeks with his sleeve, glancing at the ground. A harsh swallow. 

"Your poor little feet are gonna get hurt like that," he said gently. "Here, let me–" 

Erik stepped back from his embrace. 

"Let me walk out myself? Please." 

Gold eyes wavered in the rising dawn sun. 

He trusted Sylv. But he didn't want to be carried. Relying on men never got him anywhere good. Even kind men like Sylv, he guessed. 

Or El. 

Sylv nodded, to his relief. "Of course. Let's go, sweetie." 

* * *

Soft grass tickled his bare feet. The drape of Sylv's fine woolen coat sat around his shoulders. Embers glowed the same amber of his eyes. 

"Sylv?" 

"Yes sweetie?" Sylv's arm wrapped firmly around his waist, drawing him in. 

"What now?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! I'm so happy that people still want to read this :3
> 
> I wanted to make Mony morally ambiguous. It would have been very easy for me to paint him as Pure Evil (the basement room originally had a lock on the outside) but I thought it would be more complex and interesting if he showed Erik sympathy too... And worsened the sense of betrayal when he treated him poorly. Idk, maybe that's meaner?
> 
> Oh, and I wanted Erik to have some agency! Hence why Sylv didn't "rescue" him, he fought back himself. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know your thoughts! <3 
> 
> (Pls don't fret, Luminerik shippers! Ya boy is gonna return to his Prince very soon and _secrets will be revealed_.)


	9. A Truth Unlocked / Pandora's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saraj returns to the castle to find his prince in ruins. Overcome with guilt, he swears to tell the truth, but does his prince hold an even bigger secret?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so, so much for sticking with me :3 I'm trying to upload a little more frequently as the plot picks up (every two weeks?)
> 
> Anyway, time for the BIG reveal~
> 
> **TW:**
> 
> References to depression and depressive behaviours

"Honey?" 

Saraj's heart beat out of his chest, the unsteady rhythm throbbing through his body. A tension not even Sylv's smile could burst through. 

He grit his teeth. He had to help him. Whatever happened between him and Sylv… 

He glanced up into those soft grey eyes. 

They had to put it behind them. 

And if El had really got as bad as Sylv said he had… then it was a matter beyond his feelings. It was selfish, leaving him to rot. Rab was sure to retire soon and Saraj knew an unstable king threatened peace in Erdrea. Carnelian a prime example. 

And it was his– _well, Erik's_ – fault for abandoning him. 

Who cared if he hadn't broken the spell. He loved him and even if El didn't feel the same he at least owed it to him to help. 

Sylv's hand gently slid over his shoulder. 

The door creaked open further. 

A curled up figure. Tousled brown hair. 

The figure stared vacantly at the wall. "You can't convince me, Sylv," he said quietly. "I know Rab sent you."

* * *

Erik adjusted his head on Sylv's chest, eyes briefly falling shut. 

"Guess this is the last time, huh?" 

Sylv's brow furrowed, expression impenetrable. He stared blankly at the tent canvas, one knee up. "I'm taking you back to the palace tomorrow. I'll return to Henny and have him and his brave soldiers shut Mony's place down." 

Erik sighed softly, loosening his grip on his arm. He lifted his head, eyes dancing over dark, tousled hair. Soft and gently perfumed. "You think he'll still want me?" 

Sylv's mouth quirked up, eyes darting to meet Erik's. "An irresistible thing like you? Oh honey, he'll be beside himself." 

Erik swallowed the tightness in his throat. Traveling through the wilderness, just Erik and Sylv, camping and foraging for food, listening intently to outlandish circus stories (stories only believable coming from Sylv's mouth), laughing in the firelight, examining every nook and cranny they could find to stall for time–

Exploring other hidden places. Discovering what Sylv liked and where. 

It was freedom. 

A freedom he hadn't known in months. 

Erik and Sylv. 

And now he was returning to be a prince's consort. Trapped within the walls of Dundrasil. Stuck as Saraj. Watching nobles sneer behind their palm as he passed. 

All for a man who didn't love him. 

He pressed his face back into Sylv's chest. 

Sylv's fingers wove a nimble pattern through his hair, reaching down to brush the apple of his cheek. 

"Just promise me you'll tell him?" 

Erik bit his cheek. A long ignored feeling clawed at his stomach. The thought of having to face the truth and leave him behind. 

"Sure I will, Sylv," he mumbled, twirling a loose black strand around his finger. 

The lock slipped through his fingers. Gone. 

* * *

Sylv stepped into the darkened room, pointed shoes leaving a faint echo on the stone. Bright eyes sat heavy on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about, sweetie." 

"I'm not taking any of those _potions,_ " El mumbled. "I'm fine." 

Saraj grimaced, pulling his arms across his chest. The sheets were littered with crumbs. The curtains drawn. He could barely make out his ex-lover's face. 

Sylv's voice echoed faintly. Gentle words he couldn't quite register. 

"I'm… not the best of company right now," El mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. His chest ached, caught between desperately wanting to comfort and holding back at a safe distance. 

Sylv's brows fell down. He ushered Saraj forwards. His knees buckled by the head of the bed. 

El's eyes were tightly shut. 

His hand stroked back the hair from his face. Stringy and greasy. 

The crack in his heart deepened. El had only been this bad once before. Just after they arrived in Arboria. 

Refused to eat, sleep, wash. All he would do is stare off into the distance. Toy with that big ugly sword no-one quite dared to ask how he got. 

He receded further into himself whenever it was brought up. 

Saraj gently pulled another sticky strand from his face. "I'm here for the consort competition. Think I'm in with a shot?" 

El flinched up. 

"Sari?" 

Saraj's hands cupped his cheeks. The same weight pulled at his chest. "I should never have left," he mumbled, unsure of whether he meant Saraj or Erik. 

Both had abandoned him. 

Left him to rot. 

"No I, I was doing really well! I promise. I did everything you said but things got… hard." 

The scent of Sylv's sweet violet tingled his senses. His weight fell effortlessly on the bed, one leg folding neatly over the other. 

Saraj resisted the pull to clamber up next to him, fall back into his arms. Back to comfort and freedom. 

El's hands traced up to his face, thumb pressing at his cheek. Saraj keened into his touch. 

Goddess above, how had he forgotten how weak El made him feel? His knees buckled beneath him. 

"You're so much thinner… Are you ill? Did something happen?" 

Sylv's hand came to his shoulder, stroking lightly. 

Golden eyes flickered between the two. 

"I was upset after I left the castle. Ran down the wrong street at the wrong time. Got snatched and put to work at a stupid bar." 

El's fist scrunched at the sheet. 

"I'm not hurt. Sylv found me and got me out of there. Hendrik and his knights had the place shut down and the others freed," he said flatly, as if it was a story about someone else. 

El jerked forwards. "You mean these bastards kept you there for 5 months?!" 

"No, the first two months…" as _Erik,_ he couldn't say, "I traveled." 

"But you said it was straight after you left the castle? Sari is there something you aren't telling me?" El hunched forward, bloodshot eyes wide. 

He must have sensed the twist in Saraj's gut– the twist of the knife of his own making. The overwhelming urge to spill all. He was tired. His memory muddled. It would all just be so easy if he told the truth. 

"What did these traffickers do to you? Why do you look so scared? If they hurt you I swear to the Goddess– I'll hurt them. Just give me a description and I'll have them gone. Please, just tell me–" 

Saraj shoved his hands back. "Stop it! I know you feel like crap. But I don't want you going on a man hunt. Please, sweetheart." He brushed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Just let me take care of you?" 

"Sari, I…" 

"Nothing that bad happened." 

El looked as if he were about to cry.

Saraj sighed deeply. 

Sylv gave him a firm nod. 

"The woman who captured me beat me on occasion. And the man I ended up with was a money grabbing idiot. But his wife showed me a lot of kindness." Saraj took both of his hands. "The only suffering I truly endured was being apart from the man I adore. Thinking I had ruined everything." 

_And that you didn't love me,_ he didn't add. 

"Oh Sari. I missed you so much." 

"I missed you too, angel." Saraj wrinkled his nose exaggeratedly. He blinked back tears. "His majesty does have an… Interesting odour. Allow me." 

El yelped, legs flailing aimlessly. Saraj hitched him up higher, relishing in the grasp of El's hands around his neck. 

Sylv chuckled behind his palm. "You boys be good." He offered a heavy wink and a wave. 

Saraj stumbled towards the bathroom, squirming prince sprawled in his arms. He avoided the mirror. The dent where he punched the wall. 

"C'mon stinky, let's get you cleaned up." 

* * *

Saraj bent his knees, shakily falling back into his old stance. A scimitar clutched in each hand. Not his usual weapon of choice, but they felt distinctly Saraj– white and gold curved blades adorned with sunny citrine at the hilt. 

He swung his left arm back, satisfied by the sudden woosh of the lightweight blade slicing through the air. 

El grimaced, greatsword clenched unsteadily in sweaty palms. "I don't wanna hurt you." 

Saraj tipped his head to the side. He cracked a grin. "You underestimate me, your majesty." 

He lunged forwards, blindingly fast, gold silk trailing in his wake. His scimitars clashed with the sturdy metal of El's heavy blade. 

El stumbled back, as if struck by one of his own lightning bolts. His legs trembled. 

Saraj's breath ran equally ragged. Agility had always been his strength, but the scarce seconds it took him to reach El didn't seem natural. And he was severely out of practise. It made no sense. Unless… 

Magic tingled through his fingertips, the witch's laugh ringing in his head. 

El's eyes narrowed. 

Saraj grinned. "How are you going to protect your kingdom if you can't even defeat me?" 

Provoking anger was always better than self pity, he knew. Anger could be wielded– pity and regret only dragging you down. 

El needed that push. 

Besides, sparring had always helped in the past when he was frustrated or depressed. 

El shunted his greatsword forward, forcing Saraj to skid back along the floor like it was pure ice. 

They exchanged a grin. 

Steel clashed with gold, ringing in his ears and echoing off the stone walls. His breath panted out. _Swing._ He ducked down, greatsword slicing a single blonde curl to the floor. 

Heart thrashing, Saraj stabbed forward, nicking El's thigh. 

El glared down at him and smacked his scimitars back. Saraj's feet stayed firmly planted. 

Their pants mingled into one. 

Damn. Those eyes. He couldn't let himself get sucked in. 

El rolled his sleeves up, revealing a little bicep. Saraj bit his lip, eyes dancing up the grooves of his toned arms. El swung more forcefully, throwing his full weight behind the strike. 

Springlike muscles propelled Saraj high into the air, the woosh of the sword swinging lamely beneath his feet as if it was an easy hurdle to jump. 

El's forehead creased. 

Saraj smirked. 

He darted to the side at another strike, then another, then another– El's sword swings feverishly relentless. Witch's magic or not, his body would soon run out of energy if had to to keep dodging. 

He eyed the stone wall with a smirk. With his enhanced agility… 

In a blinding swirl of silk, he shot towards the wall, effortlessly bouncing off the cool stone and landing directly behind his assailant. 

The satisfying shink of metal rang out, scimitars crossed around El's neck. Victorious. 

"Should really keep your guard up–" 

A backwards strike sent Saraj's blades scattering. One hearty shove and a shocking ache to his back as he was thwacked against the stone. Caught. 

Greatsword at his throat, Saraj glared. El's lips curved up, far too smugly for his liking. A smile that quickly tumbled from El's face, replaced by a firm downturned line, one he found he liked much less. 

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" he demanded, eyes steely. 

Saraj fought to control his erratic breath. "I'm… a trained assassin?"

El's grip on the sword briefly loosened, his jaw slack. With a final burst of energy, Saraj rushed forwards and sent them both plummeting to the hard ground. 

"Gotcha," he cooed, hands circling El's wrists. 

El let go of his sword, indignant. "Fine. But at least answer my question." 

Saraj pressed his lips together in a silent wince. 

He bent down to kiss a graze on El's cheek. "I know how to look after myself, is all. Because for a long time nobody else would." 

A jarringly truthful statement from a man lying about his identity. 

He gulped, the remaining air squeezed from his lungs. El's hands drifted over his back in soothing motions. 

"I'll look after you. Spoil you. Give you all the love I have." 

Saraj tensed at that word. _Love_. 

He drew back, hovering over El's face. "I slept with other men," he said, overcome with an urge to offer up at least some shreds of honesty. El had a right to know the man he really was. "A one night stand because I was lonely and uh, there was a couple I was involved with." 

El sighed, as if relieved. He smiled gently. "That's okay. I slept with someone else too. But he's out of the picture. Forever."

Saraj bit at his lip. 

"And Sylvando?" 

El's lip wavered. 

Saraj ground his teeth. "I did stuff with Sylvando." 

Though it wasn't really Saraj who did those things with him. It was _Erik_. Stupid, irresponsible Erik who had a nasty habit of getting tangled in other people's webs. 

The betrayal glittered in those deep blue eyes. 

"While I was uh, slaving away for Mony, he found me in the bar. He was so sweet and compassionate… Like he wanted to take care of me. So I let him. And I took care of him too." 

El's jaw loosened. But still no words. 

"I'm sorry. I think… It is the only way I know how to show appreciation. There's something wrong with me. Definitely." 

The shards of glass in his throat cut deeper than the realisation. 

Maybe it started with Derk. Intimacy was always when he felt most secure. Wanted and needed. No-one walked out half way through getting their satisfaction. 

He needed a reason to make them stay. 

He dug his hands into El's shirt. And he wanted El to stay, dammit. Whether he loved him or not. He never wanted to let go. 

"That's not true, Sari." El's fingers brushed his cheek. "You know more than anyone about how to make me smile without sex." 

Saraj's mouth opened, for what reason he wasn't sure. He, well, _Erik,_ never slept with El once while they were traveling and he saw him laugh plenty. 

El had never left his side. Even if he left his. 

Saraj's heart swelled. 

El's eyelashes fluttered down. "You've been through hell." 

"I got out the other side to be with you." 

El smiled, nudging his nose gently to Saraj's. "Did I mention I missed you?" 

Saraj smiled back, leaning down to kiss him. "I think maybe once or twice." 

* * *

El tugged out the plait around his crown, fingers twitching around his hair, pulling and twirling the strands. He'd been sitting in that chair nearly an hour. Right in front of the vanity. El had a tendency to do that. Just sit and stare. 

It was a little less frequent than a week ago, at least. Everyone spoke of how much brighter their prince seemed with his consort at his side. Even Rab gave him a hearty slap on the back for his trouble. 

Yet Saraj often found him on the toilet, staring at the wall. Or at his desk, staring at a blank page. 

But his eyes didn't simply stare this time. They flickered, from his hand to his brush to his fingertips. A different kind of hurt. 

Saraj felt it too. Fingers tugging incessantly on his curls, not quite able to stay still. An itch that needed scratching. 

He pushed off the bed. El jumped a little under his touch, then relaxed at the gentle kisses to his neck. 

El's eyes fell shut, his teeth digging into his lip in a delighted grin. Saraj kept pressing kisses, unable to resist the way his prince squirmed into his knowing touch. 

In the midst of bliss, something dark tugged at his heart. 

El liked them both– Sari and Erik. 

And Sylv would probably deal him a sobering slap if Erik broke his promise. A knight's word and all that.

Saraj took a deep breath. 

"I need to tell you something," he murmured, withdrawing slightly. "About me." 

He glanced at their reflection, gaze immediately darting away when he caught himself trembling. 

El's eyes grew heavy. "I do, too Sari. I guess… that's why I've been cowering here." 

He opened a small pearl-studded jewellery box, sliding out a glittering, golden key. 

Saraj jumped at the scratch of the key in the lock. That drawer. _The_ drawer. El shuffled back and carefully lifted it out. His eyes shone. Sheepishly, he took a couple of shaky steps then set the drawer on the bed. 

"You can lift up the cover," he said, though every jagged edge of his body said otherwise. 

Saraj found himself on the bed beside him, staring at the object. Tentative fingers brushed the cooled cotton. Gold eyes flickered away. "Are you sure?" 

In a single breath, El dove forwards, hand grasping his wrist. His eyes swam in a heady stream of unspoken words. 

"Just promise you'll believe me? It'll seem crazy, but… It's the truth." 

Saraj gulped. "I swear it." Though, in truth, he wasn't quite sure what he was swearing to. 

El shook his head, unsteady smile at his lips. "Open it." He darted back into himself, twitching hands clasping his knees, eyes squeezed shut. 

Saraj peeled back the cloth, stomach clenched. His fingertips jumped at the feel of cool metal, a heavy gold spine. A bound book– but it was too square for a novel, with thick, sparse pages. Fine, hottonese silk stretched over the cover, soothing his trembling touch. A beaded hibiscus glittered teasingly. 

A wet drop darkened the pearlescent fabric. He sniffed, feeling the dampness trickle down his face. 

The contents of this album, the way it tingled under his touch. It had to be… He wasn't sure he should. 

But those curious, thieving hands couldn't resist the thrum of intrigue. 

The first image froze his tongue. Too shocking to be taken seriously. He quickly flicked to the second– Serena soaking Hendrik with champagne, her hair cropped above her shoulders. 

Then Jade laughing with a sunburnt Rab. 

Then Sylvando throwing confetti. 

But no Veronica. 

No matter how many pages he flicked through, there was no Veronica. 

Then, then, then–

There it was again. 

His heart snapped. 

Erik and El, hand in hand, rings sparkling brightly. 

Amber wept behind them. Mia tugged at the frills of her dress, scowl shining through the page. 

He snapped the book shut. Breath rushed out in a hasty puff. Didn't dare glance at El. Blood flooded his tongue. 

Shaking digits dug further into the draw, seeking sense. 

The fold of parchment snuck between his fingers. 

"Careful I–" 

Saraj's heart pounded. A nude Erik, eating grapes from his palm. A tear dropped from his cheek. 

" _What._ " 

Maybe El was seriously ill. He must be to create stuff like this. No sane man would have pictures drawn up of his family and friends crying at a pretend wedding, no sane man–

But it all seemed so real. The expressions, the interactions. And the nude was infuriatingly accurate, too. 

No sane man could believe that, though. 

And Serena never had her hair short. If anything, she wanted to grow it out to plait it like Veronica. 

Why wasn't Veronica–? 

Tears beaded on El's face like jewels. "He always was an idiot. My husband." 

Saraj's fists clenched. Who on _Erdrea_ let him get this deluded? 

El smiled softly. "He came round here a few months ago. Broke my heart." 

Was that when this craziness started? Had he driven his lover to madness? 

No. The drawer had existed the very day he came here. 

Saraj sniffed loudly. His world, his Luminary, in ruins. 

El curled over himself, resting his head on the pillow. "I kept wondering why he did that. Just fucked me and left." He stifled a sob. "What did I do to make him hate me so much?" 

Saraj ran his hand over his cheek, his instinct to protect overwhelming any sense of rationality. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you. But… none of this makes sense. You're not married to him, El. Who made these?" 

El shook off his hand, straightening. "You know, it was supposed to be my nineteenth birthday last week. But I'm twenty." 

The fuzz in Saraj's head grew. A festering white noise that bloomed into pain in his temple. He pressed a palm to his face. Why did none of this make sense? 

"A whole year of my life no-one else remembers," he uttered, a little brokenly. "Sometimes I wonder if I am as crazy as everything thinks. But then I touch the mark on my chest. The one that _he_ left." 

Saraj had never dared to ask. The ugly scar that came with the ugly sword. The part of him that was Erik had known better than to pry into other people's pasts. 

But he was Saraj now. 

"Where did you get that from?" 

"Mordegon. When he ripped the heart out of Yggdrasil. And he ripped mine out, too." 

Saraj narrowed his stinging eyes. Again, more nonsense. 

El's hands bunched in the sheet. "And him. When I arrived here, he promised the other him would be there for me. But this version is cruel. Nothing like my husband at all."

 _This version. Arrived here._

He was talking as if he was an alien. Or from another dimension. Saraj's mind tumbled into despair. 

El was too far gone. 

"But it makes sense, Sari." 

He flinched at the hand gripping his wrist. 

_No,_ he wanted to scream, _none of this makes sense._

"Nothing's the same here. Michelle's alive. Jade chose Serena, not Hendrik. Yeah… Hendrik has Sylv," he mumbled, almost wistfully. "Veronica's still here. And you. I never met you in that ruined world."

Tears welled up in Saraj's eyes. He had the sudden urge to punch something– _a tree?_ His temple seared. "Veronica?" 

"You only met her once, sweet pea. And she was rude to you." Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "Better alive and rude than dead with no body to mourn. So I did it. I smashed the Time Sphere, returned to the point before we reached Yggdrasil and stopped Her fall." 

El crumbled, jagged fingers tearing at his face. Saraj held him close. A soft landing to fall back on. 

Fall… 

Suppose El was telling the truth… suppose this all happened– he really needed to understand. He had sworn he'd believe him. 

As partners. 

A couple of things made sense. Arboria. The deep pit of depression he fell into there, former husband now just a companion. 

The scar. The stupid sword. 

Saraj tipped his face up, gently brushing tears from his cheek. Those eyes. They didn't speak of lies but of deep sadness. Loss. 

Saraj had felt the pain of Veronica's death. Even if he didn't understand it. 

"You're… from someplace different. Where you married Erik. And Veronica died. And your friends were dating different people?" 

"Yes." 

"Why did you leave him, then?" he asked, voice suddenly small. 

Saraj balled his fists. 

"If you loved him so much, why did you leave him? How am I supposed to believe any of this? You're out of your damn mind." 

El's eyes grew fearful. "Sari?" 

"That's not my name!" He shoved him away. "You don't know anything!" 

The wedding album, the pictures of him that weren't him– the better Erik. The one El wanted. It was all horribly, jaggedly true. A truth that sliced uncaringly. 

"I'm not stupid," El said defiantly, tears still rolling. "I know Saraj isn't a real Gallopolitan name." He sniffed. "And I also know I miss this man more than anything. A missing piece of my soul!" 

"If you miss him so much, why don't you go to him?!" Saraj spat back. "He's right here, dammit! In, in Erdrea, I mean. G-Gotta be somewhere." 

"I don't love him, Sari." Sad eyes brimmed with fury. "I despise him. I hope I never, ever see him again." 

The breath caught in his throat. 

El had his wish. 

Erik was gone. Just as he wanted. 

His teeth clenched. 

"I guess I should've known something wasn't right," he continued. "That it wasn't meant to be." 

El's voice fragmented in his head. 

"He never kissed me in Arboria. Like he was supposed to." 

White noise. Searing pain. _I despise him._

"He never even bothered to come visit me here... apart from when he wanted a shag. Was it seriously that hard?" 

Erik thought of the spat with the guards months ago, the way they mocked him then refused to let him in. 

The witch's promise. Sacrificing the object that was dearest to him and putting himself at the mercy of a curse he still didn't fully understand. 

He remembered throwing up glittering blue, terrified. 

And the pub landlord leering at him before allowing him into the consort competition. 

Sitting in that room with those other men. Hoping to be chosen by His Majesty the Prince of Dundrasil. 

All for nothing. 

He should never have made the perilous climb up his shitty tower into his shitty bedroom. 

Erik had lost his body for him. 

All for nothing. 

Rage boiled in his veins. 

"Fuck. You." 

Feet slapped against cool stone. He slammed the balcony door behind him. 

The rage fled, Saraj's body falling limp to the ground. 

* * *

The fire splashed warmth over the cold stone. Mourners' tears glowed like embers of the Fall. El's feet dangled aimlessly over the edge. Useless. 

He hadn't been able to save her. Or the thousands of people who died. The weight in his chest tugged so relentlessly he felt it could pull him over the edge, down onto the unforgiving stone below. Maybe it should. 

Serena beamed brightly, the warm gesture stinging the back of El's throat. The swallow was unbearable. But nothing compared to the pain Serena must feel. 

Sunset muted blue caught his eye, buried in the arms of Sylvando. El forced away the ridiculous jealousy. 

Sylv hugged everyone like that, he reasoned, though the thought wouldn't quite pass. 

His fingers dug into the dirt. If Erik and Sylv _were_ dating they deserved every happiness there was. It wasn't their fault a washed out failure of a Luminary had a crush on a dashing thief. 

A crush shared by half of Erdrea, clearly, evident in the attention the rogue received wherever he went: the love letter from the academy, the bunny girls fawning over him in Octagonia. 

Sharp pain on the inside of his cheek jolted his tired mind. Time to look somewhere else. Rab offering Serena's parents his condolences. Hendrik brushing a kiss to Jade's forehead. 

The grass crunched behind him. 

El's head bowed. 

"Hand over all your damn valuables now and nobody gets hurt!" 

A familiar leather clad hand clasped over his eyes. A knife he forged at this throat. El breathed raggedly. Erik's body pressed against his. Warm. Soft. Even when he was threatening him. 

He somehow remembered how to speak. 

"Take what you want! Please don't hurt me," he said, a little woodenly. 

"Hm." Hot air on his ear. Lips tickling his cheek. "Lemme just pat you down for valuables." 

El's breath froze. Just like one of his dreams. One of _those_ dreams. Though ideally it wouldn't take place at his friend's funeral. Erik really had a sense of time and place. 

He squealed. Erik's lithe fingers dug into his sides, right into the places that made him cry out. El squirmed and writhed, giggling helplessly, hopelessly trapped and guiltily enjoying it. Damn Erik knowing him so well. All his secret places. His weak spots. 

"You give in?" The knife drew away from his throat. A final dig into his side that sent El sprawling. 

"Yes! Now sto-op!" El tilted his head back, ready to offer his most sulky face. 

But instead he saw Erik, softly bathed in the trickling moonlight. Beautiful. And very, very kissable. 

Erik let go of his waist and flopped down next to him, offering a brash grin. His dagger screeched into its sheath. "Not scared, huh?" 

"You're too cute to be scary." El rushed forwards and pinched his cheek. 

Erik pouted. A silly yet adorable expression he so rarely wore. 

El wrapped himself around Erik's arm, head nuzzling his shoulder. He felt the muscles tense beneath him. Then slowly relax. 

"You okay, partner?" 

He glanced up. 

"You're just… a lil more cuddly than usual." 

El straightened a little, guilt gnawing away at his lip. "Want me to give you some room?" 

Erik easily slipped out of his grip– El's heart thrashing wildly for a brief, painful second– then snuck his arm around his back, drawing him in closer. "Nah. I'm kinda cold, actually." 

El pressed his head to his chest, cheeks warm. A soothing white lie. He knew Erik didn't get cold, even in the depths of the Snærfelt. Which meant he wanted affection, but was still a little too stubborn to ask for it. 

"I missed you, sweet pea." Erik's hand paused in stroking his side. "And your slightly burnt eggs. The snuggles I'd sometimes get when you were sleepy." 

"I remember that morning Ronnie swore the room down." Erik idly stretched his arm above his head. "Told us to stop _shagging in the cabin_." 

El giggled. Erik was always so warm. Full of silly stories that made everything seem a lot brighter. 

The morning he spoke of– El remembered it fondly. Erik curled over him in the Snærfelt to help keep him warm after he collapsed in the snow. And Veronica didn't help the rising heat in his cheeks with her saucy assumption. 

El wondered if it wasn't just about physical warmth that day– Erik stayed with him long after the frostbite passed. Emotional warmth. 

"Ruby gave me a talkin' to, too," Erik sighed, a heaviness pulling down at his voice. "Said I was gonna lead a perfectly good Luminary astray." The hand around El's waist squeezed a little tighter. "We held a little bonfire for her. Me, Derk and a couple of the downtown girls who worked for her. Gave her a nice send off."

El released a small gasp. He'd forgotten about Ruby. Of course, Erik being stoic and stubborn, had insisted to go it alone. "I would've come with you, pumpkin." 

"I know." Erik ruffled his hair with a smile. "But I know you, El. I didn't wanna add to your guilt… 'bout something that isn't even your damn fault." His jaw clenched. 

Aggression. That seemed to be Erik's main coping mechanism. El distinctly remembered pulling splinters from an infected knuckle days after Erik punched the tree in the Grove of Repose. 

El's hand stroked over Erik's knee, finding his clenched fist. "I think Serena was right. Veronica would torch us all for moping over her." 

Erik huffed, hand curling into El's.

El felt his heart might shatter. 

A bright, lopsided smirk glowed in the dark. "I think I know somethin' that would piss her off _even_ more." 

"Oh?" El blinked up at him, head barely lifting from his chest. 

Erik slipped his fingers from El's touch, hesitantly resting them on his cheek. 

Then he kissed him, he _kissed_ him, soft and sweet. Not how he managed Erik to kiss at all. 

He should've known the soft hearted thief would be so gentle. 

"If you look up, you can see Perseus and Andromeda. The old legends say that Andromeda was tied to a rock to appease a sea monster, uh, Cetus. But Perseus rescued her from Cetus, killed off her other suitor then they got married. Makes me think of Gondolia. Except the last part, heh." He nudged El's side. "Don't go killin' off any suitors for me." 

"Erik?" 

"And before that Perseus killed Medusa. Which was pretty handy coz he could just freeze their enemies into stone with her decapitated head." 

El giggled, brushing hair from Erik's face. "You talk a lot." 

Erik's mouth twitched, ready to blurt out a babbling apology. 

El pressed his lips to his, lingering in his warmth. "Tell me more about the stars." 

* * *

Saraj stared out at the blurred smear of stars. Narcissus stared back at him. The man so ruled by his own vanity the gods cursed him to fall in love with his own image. Unable to have his love reciprocated, he melted in the fires of his own passion and transformed into a golden flower. 

He wouldn't mind turning into a golden flower right now. No secrets. No lies. No alternate dimensions with husband Eriks that were better than him in every conceivable way. 

He pulled his knees to his chest. 

"Sari?" 

Saraj stared at the sky. Not wanting to think. Then the ground. 

El knelt at his side. His side. It was where he always was, regardless of his outbursts. 

"I know it's a lot to take in–" 

"I believe you." 

He glanced back, glittering tears no longer falling. 

"I believe you went back in time to save everyone. It's just like you." 

"You do?" El whimpered, voice cracking. 

As if he'd never expected anyone to believe him. 

"I do. I'm sorry I–" 

El's arms desperately dragged him close. 

"–Love you," he murmured into his neck, "I couldn't bear to keep this from you." He pressed a sloppy kiss to his ear. "I love you so much." 

Saraj jerked away. " _What?_ " 

"I love you, Sari. I'm sorry for keeping something so huge from you." His head bowed. "I was scared you'd hate me." 

"I could never but… Me?" Saraj ducked away, biting his lip. "Are you sure?" 

El laughed softly. "Who else? Who else has been there at my lowest points? Made me smile when no-one else could? Made me a better person." 

Saraj choked on tears he didn't know were coming. "What about E-Erik?" 

_What about him?_ Who gave a damn what happened to that pathetic man. 

He was dead. 

"I don't love him. I love you, Sari." El pressed a damp, fleeting kiss to his lips. "You're my one and only. My partner. I love you so, so much. I want to be with you for the rest of my life." 

Saraj crumbled in his arms and wept. El held him more securely with every sob. Those hands smoothed over his back, brushing over bare skin. 

"What was it that you wanted to tell me?" 

Saraj sat back on his knees. "I wanted…" 

_I love you, not him. I despise him._

"To tell you I love you. That is all." 

El grinned and kissed him feverishly. He pressed their foreheads together. 

Saraj smiled sheepishly, his body buzzing with emotion. Love. El loved him. Erik may not be his true love but Saraj was. 

He knew it. He knew it in the touch of their hands, the brush of their lips, the beats of their hearts. 

He looped his arms around El's neck. 

"Make love to me." 

El giggled. "What, now?" 

"Mm… I've never done it on a royal balcony." His wicked grin glinted in the dark. 

"The bed's just there, love." 

"But I haven't had you in so long." 

El kissed him, slow and soft and languid. They had all night. And the next day if they so choose. 

El was his. 

"Your eyes are so beautiful," El sighed, touching his cheek. "I always forget the blue's there." 

Saraj tensed against his lips. 

_Blue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... How was that? Please lemme know what you thought <3
> 
> Writing the flashback I felt like that Erik had a much stronger "Erik" voice? Idk, Saraj is becoming a completely different entity to me.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reactions and theories are very, very welcome :3


	10. The Ocean Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As El prepares to tell his former companions his greatest secret, Saraj struggles to keep his buried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! 
> 
> I almost met my 2 week chapter goal but I got upset about what I thought was a negative comment & it knocked my confidence a whole ton. Kinda just gave up writing for a week coz I felt rough.
> 
> But I do have some good news!! Puffinpastry drew me this [GORGEOUS fanart](https://puffinpastry.tumblr.com/post/625300486868926464/a-request-from-dragonquesttbh-for-her-amazing-fic) and I love it so much! They have a ton of Luminerik art and you should absolutely check em out <3
> 
> **CW: Vomiting and outdated/ misogynistic views of sex**

Saraj stumbled, gold sandal catching on the gold threshold. Stupid thin straps. He doubted they would even hold up on desert sands, more costume jewellery than footwear. 

He paused. 

The breeze up his shirt had caught him off guard. But he arrived here in Drasilian finery: gold to complement El's green. Tight to his hips and bare at the waist. 

The threadbare, yellowing cotton, the hideous brown slacks– these were guard's clothes. 

He must have changed. After that horrendous mess he made of him and Hendrik. It was better El didn't know. 

Hendrik's shadow loomed behind him. The secret he held weighing heavily on those brick wall shoulders. 

Hendrik would stay quiet. Knights couldn't break their word. The weight of his gaze didn't falter from the crimson carpet. 

Saraj looked up, away from his sombre figure. Perched on the edge of Jade's bed, Sylv held Serena tight in his arms, hand stroking over the plait that fell just below her shoulder blades. 

El's voice cut through the eerie silence. 

"I have a very important question for you, Sari." 

The group watched expectantly, each person stopping to stare. Serena brushed a tear from her eye. 

Saraj ignored the painful twist in his stomach. The sting of bile in his throat. 

Jade clasped her hands together, bleary eyes bright. Hopeful. 

Veronica's narrow-eyed glare betrayed her suspicion. Or perhaps pity. She also knew too much. It was only a matter of time… 

Time. 

He glanced instead to Sylv's warm smile. 

They all knew something him and Hendrik didn't. 

He couldn't help but smile at that. 

El's hand on his cheek shot a shiver through his jaw, fingers like ice. Cool blue eyes traced over his body, curious. 

But he didn't ask about the clothes. 

Saraj met his prying gaze. 

He sighed through his nose, easy and languid. His body moulded to the palm on his cheek. Pliant. Fluid. Easily manipulated. 

He melted. 

Gold and blue stained the carpet. 

A swirling puddle. 

* * *

Mia stood, brow arched, elbow jagged as it jutted out from her hip. "So?" 

"He loves me, Mia." He squeezed his fingers tightly. "That's all that matters."

"And Erik?" she demanded, advancing into his space. 

"He hates Erik." 

"Good," she cried, pitch spiking through the roof. "So do I!" Her hands shoved at his chest, forcing him backwards. Her voice cracked. "I hate you." 

Saraj bit his lip. She didn't mean it. She would come around. 

"So, so, so," she balled her fists, pacing the floorboards, "you're just gonna hide in this shell forever? Stuck like this? Grow old and wrinkly as _Saraj_?" 

She spat his name to the oaken floor. 

The hollowness in his chest wobbled. He swallowed through the harsh sting of his throat. 

She growled, ringed fingers sweeping across her desk. She didn't want his silence. She wanted an explosive argument. 

But Saraj's inner fire had been extinguished long ago. 

Another sweep of her arm. An awful cracking. 

He jumped back, shards of glass sliding across the elegant wooden floor. 

Another invoice to Monsieur. The last lamp she broke set him back far more gold than he thought possible. 

"I don't have much of a choice, Mia," he said, head bowed. 

El loved him, that was the only thing that mattered. It didn't matter that Erik was lost to the abyss when he loved Saraj. 

A mantra close to snapping under the weight of his sister's disgusted stare. 

Her lip curled. "It's gross how much of his pet you've become. Look at you, cowering from me like a little kid! It's pathetic!" 

Saraj fidgeted with a single curl. She was starting to remind him of _them_. The clench of her fist. The curl of her lip. 

That was where she spent most of her childhood. She didn't remember their mother like he did. At least he had the small, precious fragments of memories of her he could hoard. All Mia knew was brutality and violence. 

"I passed my exams," she spat. Sharp eyes glared with malice. "Not that you give half a shit. Fucking off for three months to hump Prince FUCKING Stupid!" 

Tentatively, he stepped forwards. Glass crunched underfoot. "You really are gonna be Erdrea's top lawyer, huh? " 

She didn't back away. Not even as he grew closer. 

Saraj tugged her into his arms– carefully, as if she could shatter– the heat of her anger simmering. His lips brushed her hair. He couldn't quite tuck his chin over her head anymore. If she kept growing at this rate then she would definitely end up taller than him.

Which wasn't hard. 

Maybe he could have grown like her with real food and proper care. He was grateful she had the chance. 

His hand traced her back. Her damp cheek pressed into the silk of his shirt. 

"I'm so proud."

Briefly, Mia stood silent. Saraj allowed himself a small smile. "How's the wife?" 

"Ugh! She's not my wife!" Mia shoved him away, roughly swiping at her tears. 

His stomach burst with venomous pain, vision blurring blue and gold. He grit his teeth, stumbling back. He'd tolerated worse, from Vikings and monsters alike. 

Not that Mia was either of those. 

More like a wounded animal. 

"Get out!" she called, her voice miles away. Or underwater. The echoes rippled through his tired mind like a distant memory. "You're not my brother and I don't want you here!"

Saraj froze, pressing his lips together to suppress the wobble. She was never going to forgive him. He was trapped. 

"Erik!" she yelled, voice cracking. 

Her body flashed gold. Blinded by panic, Erik reached a hand forward. 

Which was promptly smacked away. Still flesh. 

He was the one who was gold. Frozen. Trapped. Cursed. 

Mia's voice sliced through the haze like a cutlass. "I said GO!"

Saraj teetered towards the exit– blinking viciously, gaining no clarity. Just gold. Glittering and beautiful and foul. Tinged with sickly blue. 

"Oh, and the blue in your eye's gotten bigger!" 

Saraj clasped his hand to his face, bracelets jingling. 

"I know my brother. He's strong. He's gonna break through you and you're going to crumble into dust!" 

Tears fell. Black droplets splattered on the floor. Another stop in the bathroom. He needed to reapply the dusty kohl before El saw. He couldn't know. He could never know. 

"Well I'm all that's left of him so he'll crumble, too." He solemnly pushed at the door.

A high pitched growl. Then the sound of glass shattering. 

"See if I care!" 

His hand curved around the bannister. He didn't look back. Just like the first time he left her. He couldn't face what he'd done. 

* * *

Saraj wretched, thin gold streaked with blue blood trickling down the toilet bowl. A river of burning colour. 

It was only a matter of time before El noticed. The nearly hourly rushes off to the bathroom. He must be suspicious. He must know he's lying.

"Sari?" 

The voice at the door. 

Saraj slammed the lid shut, scrubbing at his mouth. 

El stepped into the room, hands clasped. He fell to his knees at Saraj's side, lips tight. 

He knew. He must know. 

"I just did the worst shit. You don't wanna smell it," he offered weakly, shoving the flush down so hard his wrist stung. 

El's arms snaked around his waist. His lips pressed to his cheek. "I felt you all curled up last night." His fingers ran a gentle circle over his stomach. "Sore?"

Saraj shuffled against his chest. He withheld a wince. 

"Can I get Serena to have a look?" 

"It's probably just nerves," Saraj mumbled. "Meeting your friends again." 

El kissed his ear, laughing softly. "Hey, pumpkin. You're gonna be okay." His lips found his cheek. "Thank you for pushing me to tell them. For making me brave."

It was the right thing to do. Maybe El could skip over some finer details. Veronica's death would be a hard pill to swallow. And El was worried enough that Hendrik would pair off with Jade, leaving Serena and Sylv alone. Better not to mention it at all.

Or, sometimes he worried that they were better off like that. That this universe was somehow wrong. Small glimpses of his worries slipped out when they were alone together– Hendrik's stolen glances at the princess, Jade placing a congratulatory hand on his shoulder, Sylv's straying from his knight. 

El trusted him. 

Saraj's features darkened. 

He shouldn't trust him. 

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Sari." 

Saraj squirmed in his arms. "Piss off," he mumbled half heartedly. 

El pressed a bright kiss to his lips. "That's a funny way of you telling me you love me." 

Saraj peeled his body back from El's, grabbing his cheeks with both palms. "Mm," he murmured, guilt weighing down on his tongue. He brushed their noses. "They'll be so pleased you told them." 

"You think?" 

"I know it." 

El smiled, face like the sun. Eyes ocean blue. 

Then he was lost to El's kisses. A surge of gentle nips and touches, pulling him beneath the tide, into a whirlpool of their own making. 

The world above the waves forgotten. 

* * *

El darted to the side, Jade's fist catching the edge of his cloak. She narrowed her eyes, cracking her knuckles. 

"I've been training him," Saraj said smugly, leaning into his partner's side. 

El offered him a sunny smile. 

"You never trained with me when I asked." Jade cocked a brow, readying another punch. 

El shyly bit his cheek. "Sari is special. I'll do whatever he wants." 

"Hm. Much better than that good for nothing thief." Jade spat on the gold accented carpet. She was still the girl who grew up on the road with Rab, not quite, or likely ever to become, the stuffy royal she was expected to be. 

Still more civilised than Erik, he supposed. 

The man everyone hated. 

Now a ghost that haunted their conversations. 

Saraj squished himself against El's side. A small comfort. He brightened a little at the light peck to his cheek. 

Hendrik fidgeted awkwardly behind Jade. El's arm slipped from his waist to shake his hand. 

"Hendrik."

Hendrik nodded. "Luminary." 

Jade snapped her head around. "Do try to be a little less awkward, Hendrik." 

He offered the shadow of a smile. Like a secret shared. "Of course, Princess." 

The uneasiness trickled off El's every movement. Saraj's hand fell to his and gave a brief squeeze. 

"Now, I trust Rab has informed you of our intentions to speak with Sniflheim. The battleship spotted on our shores–" 

The change in topic seemed to relax him a little. Saraj brushed a kiss to El's cheek and gently slipped from his side. 

His eyes danced over the ridiculous opulence of the throne room. He tried not to think of how many people could be fed if he stole and pawned the gold plates. 

He was one of them. One of the elites. Living in luxury while his old friends struggled to make ends meet. 

He wondered how Derk felt about that, too. 

The click of heavy boots stunned him from his gawping. The lurid purple of Carnelian's cape snapped at his heels. Saraj's knees bent, battle stance ready. 

The monster may have left Carnelian but he was still an ominous presence. 

His sharp eyes flicked over his clothes with disdain. "I don't take kindly to harlots under my roof. I tolerate your presence with grit teeth." 

He stormed off, cape whipping in his wake. 

Saraj glared. Rich coming from someone who sent guards down to Ruby's every night to find him some company. It wasn't like he paid them any more, either, despite hoarding most of the wealth of the kingdom. 

And here Saraj stood, in the throne room of Heliodor castle, his old friends working for pennies or battling off illness. 

The title of harlot was better than that of King. 

"Ugly bearded cunt." 

Serena giggled. "Well you've got a rather foul mouth on you, haven't you young man?" 

Saraj perked up. Before he could even remember how to think he threw himself into Serena's arms. 

"Oh! Well I do rather enjoy a cuddle!" Saraj gasped, feet lifting off the ground as he was spun around. 

Of course Serena would happily be affectionate to a near stranger. El's tinkle of laughter didn't miss his ears. 

"Right you are!" She patted his head. Just like she used to. If it was anyone else he'd offer them a kindly punch to the gut. But Serena had a free pass. And he missed her sorely. 

"I'm off to bag myself a princess," she said brightly, comically jogging towards the throne. 

Saraj's heart swelled. Jade dipped Serena and kissed her deeply, sparing no-one else a glance as her hand slid up Serena's thigh. 

He smiled sweetly at Carnelian's scowl. El's shoulders relaxed. 

"Oh, honey!" Lithe arms squeezed him so tightly he thought he would break. Sylv abruptly pulled back, eyes a little wide. He leant down to whisper. "Well… Have you told the poor dear?"

Saraj bit his lip. 

Sylv's hand ran briskly over his back. "You need to tell him, sweetie. He has a right to know." 

El's boots thumped against the stone, jarring them away from each other. 

"How's Hendrik?" he said coolly, pulling Saraj tight to his chest. 

A blush bloomed in his cheeks. He couldn't deny the delight he felt at El's jealous touch. El really wanted him. He belonged to no one else. 

Sylv's face fell. "Oh, so I take it you know about our little fling?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, I must say I enjoyed my time with dearest Erik but you two are a much better fit and I have no intention–" 

Saraj froze. 

Sylv clasped a hand to his mouth. 

That stupid, overactive mouth. A mouth that wasn't too bad to kiss. 

El's arm constricted around Saraj's waist, his presence clearly asserted. Saraj was his. No one else's. 

Damn Sylv and his stupid mouth. 

"You saw him? When?!" 

Silence rung in his ears. 

Sylv's brows drew down, one hand gently squeezing the other. Hendrik should be doing that– holding his hand, stroking his hair. 

But he stood beside Jade, ever the emotionless statue. 

"A month or so ago," Sylv said quietly. 

Jade marched over, heels clicking. "I'll kick his head off. Then his knob. His stupid _tiny_ knob." 

"Not if I singe it off first!" Veronica clasped her staff. 

All that was left of her when she died, El said. His eyes lingered on carved wood. 

The trembling tension fled Saraj in a weakening wave. He was safe. 

Sylv's shoulders fell down. 

For now. 

"Ye know, I'd like to give that lad a wee piece of my mind." Rab ambled into the throne room, leaning on his cane. "What he did to my grandson was unforgivable. The deep illness he fell into, I thought… I thought I might lose him to it." 

Jade's arm came around his shoulder in a gentle swoop. She knelt at his side. 

Saraj closed his eyes. His fault. 

El's mood was significantly lighter, but there were still too many of those days where he could barely climb out of bed. His fault. 

"Grandad…" El mumbled, crouching beside Jade. 

Rab sniffled. "Look at you two, going soft in your old age!" His hand clapped El's shoulder. "Yer gonna be a fine king, laddie. With an equally fine man at your side." 

Rab gestured towards him. Saraj's stomach turned. He stepped forward. 

"Thank you, laddie. Without you he wouldnae be able to make such a recovery!" 

"You can see you're in it for the long haul." Jade tsked gently. "Unlike _someone_." 

Sylv gave a heavy sigh. "I think when we see Erik again we should show a little sympathy and kindness so he doesn't fly away again." 

"Kindness?!" Jade snarled, pushing to her feet. "My brother invited him into his bed, into his heart, and what does he do? Fucks him and leaves him." 

"He had his reasons." 

"His reasons? What would those be?" 

"It's not my place to say." 

"Very convenient. Sorry we can't all live in happy smiley Sylv cloud cuckoo land where we are all lovely and kind to each other all day long!" Jade swiped a hand across her forehead. "Some of us have duties and can't flounce around on stage all day." 

Serena gasped. Her eyes pleaded. "Jade." 

"No! He thinks he can walk in and out of here whenever he pleases, leaving poor Hendrik alone. Of course he's taking Erik's side, they're both slippery little bloody–" 

"Shut up!" Saraj ground his teeth. 

"Sorry." He panted, glancing around at the startled faces. "Just… we came here for a specific reason and I feel like it has been forgotten. My apologies, your Majesty." 

El brushed his lips to his ear. "Thank you." 

Jade cleared her throat and straightened her dress. "No, I am the one who must apologise. It must be awkward to hear about El's other lover. My deepest apologies." 

"It is fine. There are simply more important matters to discuss than some thief." 

Sylv sighed heavily. 

"Quite. We will discuss this," she vaguely gestured at El, "whatever this is, in the privacy of my chambers." 

She snapped her fingers and Hendrik followed at her heels. El's arm curled around Saraj's, holding him tightly. 

Serena slipped back to Sylv, wrapping an arm around his. 

Rab trailed a little behind them, Veronica at his side, both speaking in hushed tones Saraj was too tired to think about. He ignored the glances they sent his way. 

"You did so well," El murmured, guiding Saraj a path down to the rooms he had almost forgotten. They used to return here often, updating Carnelian on their latest finds. 

But that was years ago. 

He was far more familiar with the hauntingly tall walls of Dundrasil. 

Saraj glanced down the stairs, vision blurring as it lost focus. Erik had been dragged down there almost five years ago. Brutalised by the guards. 

Now they looked at him with something close to respect, or perhaps fear. 

El paused at Jade's door, fingers twitching. Saraj ran his hand through his hair, canting his face to his, and kissed him, soft and deep and slow. 

"I have caused a commotion." 

"Sari," he whispered. 

A plea. 

He shook his head. "You're strong enough without me. Go, be a hero." He planted his lips to his cheek. 

El's eyes flickered to the open door. His teeth grazed his lip. "Is it bad that I wish he was here? He just, we've been through a lot together and I know he'd have something funny to say."

Saraj grinned. He ran a teasing hand over his shoulder. "Maybe he's closer than you think."

El giggled. He pulled at Saraj's curls. "You're telling me this is all dyed? And you're wearing contact lenses? Now that would be impressive." 

Saraj's heart stopped.

Then he rolled his eyes. "And my accent is faked?" 

El pulled him close, hand roaming in a way that wasn't quite appropriate for the grand halls of Heliodor, lips wet and hot on his ear. "I know you're not from Gallopolis. You already admitted that but… what's your real voice?" 

Saraj drew back. He took a deep breath. "Cor blimey guv! Would you Adam an' Eve that this is what my real voice is an' all?" 

If Derk could see him right now he'd deck him. He probably deserved it. 

El snorted, face scrunching up in that adorable way he loved. A sweet giggle escaped his lips.

"Or maybe…" Saraj tapped his lips. "You alright my loverrrrrrr! Don't I know you from somewhere? Down the farmer's market?" 

El pouted. Cute. He stomped his foot. "I don't sound like that!" 

"What are you talkin' about my earthy little cabbage? This is _exactly_ what you sound like." 

El scrunched his nose. "That's racist. To white people."

A single quiet moment. 

Saraj spluttered, veering forwards into his partner's arms. El's nose crashed into his cheek, body shaking with giggles. "I hate you." 

Jade glared at them both, a weary teacher waiting for the disruptive kids to quieten down. 

Saraj offered a curt bow. "Your Majesty." 

El snickered, offering a particularly stealthy pinch. Saraj withheld a giggle, hand clasped over his mouth. 

He smiled, strangely light as he walked back to the staircase. Jade rolled her eyes, slapping El on the shoulder. 

Saraj glanced back. He blew a kiss to his prince. _Love you._

El pressed his fingers to his cheek then brought them to his lips. _Love you too._

* * *

Sandals slapped against the hard stone steps to the Heliodor dungeons. Years since Erik was marched down here. 

Where he met him. 

Was that why he descended the crumbling stone steps– to relive times passed?

It was better than wandering aimlessly around the castle. The past hour of pacing had only added to the shakiness in his step. El must be feeling the same, though, or perhaps worse. 

They would believe him. They would have to. Hopefully taking it better than he had. 

_Slap, slap, slap._

Cold, unforgiving stone. 

The jangle of coins halted his step. 

The guard turned rigid, pulling a hand from between the bars. A shiny gold coin tumbled to the dirty floor. 

"You're the future King's Consort?" 

Saraj bowed his head. "Indeed I am. I'm just…" He wasn't sure how to justify walking through the cells. He didn't even know why he was there. His body released a heavy sigh. "I was just taking a stroll." 

"Right you are, Sir– uh, Lord… Highness?"

"Leave," spat the faceless voice from behind the bars. "You are blocking my view, tin head." 

Saraj's muscles tensed, ready to flee. That voice. That man. 

The poor guard looked ready to run himself. 

"Wait, I, I came to converse with the prisoner," he said, trying to speak with the same authority Jade used. "At his Majesty's request while he attends to business." 

The tin head stood nervously. "'Course you are, uh, my esteemed, _hngh_ – Please do not hesitate to call if you require resistance," he mumbled, words jumbling together. 

He stumbled past Saraj, awkwardly scrambling up the stairs, armour clanking painfully with every step. 

The last man anyone would call for if he required _resistance._

Saraj tentatively stepped forwards, sucking at his cheek. 

"Siji?" Mony snaked forward from the darkness. A bowl of dumplings and noodles sat at his feet. Far better than anything Erik ever ate in this dump. 

Of course Mony was stupid enough to waste his bribes on food. Couldn't afford to live without the luxury. 

"I see you've made yourself at home." 

He smiled. Mony was the one trapped now. The prisoner. 

"Hmph." Saraj winced at the sound of wet noodles being shoved into his greedy mouth. "Would be nicer in my humble apartment." He shuffled forwards, grubby hands reaching around the bars.

Saraj stepped back. 

"Why don't you bail me out, Siji? I'm sure your prince has plenty of coin." 

Saraj gave a short huff of laughter. "Why would I help you?"

The ambition of this pathetic man was almost admirable. Even crawling in the dirt he strived for more. 

"You see…" His face pressed between the bars, grin glinting in the dark. "How do you think your prince will react when he discovers his gorgeous Gallopolitan lover is really a filthy little downtown rat? A dirty crook?" 

Saraj dug his teeth into his lip. No. 

His feet stumbled back again. 

"Er-ik," he cooed. 

He clamped his hands to his ears. 

"Just 500,000 will do. Should cover my bail. And… a nice little extra 300,000 to help me get back on my feet. As a courtesy." 

"I can't do that," he said firmly. His nails dug into his palms. 

"Okay, that's fair." Mony laughed gently. "How about I tell him who you are, and then what you used to be." 

"He knows about my thieving! We met in prison, you stupid bastard!" 

Saraj's heart pounded. He was going to tell El. The stupid, selfish, greedy bastard. He was going to be his downfall. Unless, unless–

"Easy sabrecat, no need to shout." Mony shuffled up to his knees. "You know, people talk if you give them money. And let's just say… the guards around here are very chatty. But that's not the only thing people do for money, is it, Erik?" 

Saraj's lips tightened. "You don't get to call me that." 

"People do all sorts of things for money." 

Mony's lip glistened in the torchlight. Sauce from the noodles. Faintly red. His stomach turned. 

"Isn't it a strange coincidence that many of the guards here seem to know the exact feel of your mouth?" 

Saraj lunged forwards, hands clasping Mony's throat. His nails dug in, desperate to break skin. 

Mony released a crack of laughter. "And I said, better to go for the mouth unless they want to enter the entirely pleasureless cavern–" 

Heavy iron boots jolted the harsh ground. 

"So-called Saraj," Hendrik boomed. 

Saraj froze. Terror crept up his body, writhing through his veins, gripping his throat. His breath stopped. 

"Unhand him at once." 

Saraj quickly let go of Mony's throat. He swallowed bile. Livid red marks. Caused by him. 

"The prince will be informed of your… misdeeds. And you!" He glared at Mony, but all Saraj could feel was the pounding of his heart. 

_No, no, no._ He couldn't find out like this. Just a little longer. Not after he had attacked Mony like a wild animal. 

"Do not look so pleased with yourself, you will not be leaving this cell and you no longer have your bargaining chip."

Mony's mouth fell open. Utterly gormless. 

A look Saraj could barely appreciate with the glare that bore into him. 

He tucked a golden curl behind his ear with a trembling finger, blindly following Hendrik down the dark corridor. 

A sudden stop. 

His stomach lurched. 

Hendrik forced open the side door. He limply followed, pulse pounding in his ears. 

He sucked in a breath. Erik knew this place better than anyone. Time to keep calm. Breathe deeply. 

The torture room. 

His body shuddered. 

But the rack had been stripped out, leaving a sickly pale line where it used to be attached to the wall. Maybe things had improved since Jasper's absence. But the thick heavy scent of iron hung in the air, if only in Erik's mind. 

Hendrik slammed the door shut. 

"I'll, I'll," Saraj's eyes darted around the room. "I'll tell the whole kingdom your boyfriend left you for a thief. I'll drag you down with me! Put both your reputations in the mud!" 

It was desperate. Shameful. But it was all he had. 

Hendrik's frown remained stuck, as if carved from stone. His fist curled in Saraj's hair, yanking it against the stone. 

He grunted. 

"I see the dishonour of a thief still colours your character. I thought you an honest man." His teeth ground together. "Sylvando would never dishonour you in such a way as you have threatened to do." 

Saraj's eyes stung. Maybe he was more similar to Mony than he thought, grasping onto any scrap of information he had to crawl out of the dirt. 

Hendrik's fingers briefly tightened their grip. 

"I have no intention of informing the prince." He abruptly removed his hand. "But you must." 

Saraj crumpled to the floor, panting. His jaw tingled. He jolted up, retching loudly. 

Blue gold streaked the floor, splattered over the steel caps of Hendrik's boots. 

He barely saw the built man crouch down. 

Hendrik rubbed the substance between large, leather clad fingers, blue gold shimmering in the lurid torchlight. 

"What is the meaning of this?" 

"I don't know. Help me, Hendrik." 

He reached forward into the void of sea and sand. Steady hands caught his arm. 

He hadn't meant to sound so desperate. But his cheeks itched with tears. He was desperate. 

"I should not have treated you so roughly." 

"Happens all the time." His body spasmed, throwing him forwards, fingers digging into the cold stone. "Not your fault." 

"Could this be…" Hendrik steadied his shaking form. "A side effect of the Luminary's travel through time?" 

Oh, they knew. 

And at the very least Hendrik believed him. 

Though he had little time to be relieved. 

"What? No you, idiot, you stupid meathead–" 

Hendrik held his flailing arms fast. His piercing gaze didn't falter. 

"It's a curse." A tear tumbled to the ground. 

"I see. Perhaps the Luminary can alleviate you of this curse?" 

"Wait... The sword…" Saraj laughed breathlessly. "Hendrik! The sword!" 

Hendrik frowned. Saraj wondered if the man ever smiled. 

Except at Jade. 

His teeth released his lower lip. "Wait, is he okay? Coz, you know, time shit?" 

His thoughts raced faster than he could catch them. Everyone knew. His chest burned. But if he could just get the sword–

Would that make him Erik– or a Saraj whose body wasn't poisoned?

A different person entirely? 

Or maybe nothing would change at all. 

Hendrik cleared his throat. "The Luminary is most certainly in a better state than you are currently in." 

Saraj looked down at his clothes. A horrible mess of blue splattered over the gorgeous golden Hottonese silk. "Shit." 

"It is no matter." Hendrik nodded then stood. "I will fetch you some clothes, we will return you to the Luminary and you shall speak to him of this curse." 

"If only it was that easy." 

Hendrik offered his palm. "You will find your strength as he found his." 

* * *

"You had something to ask me?" 

El nodded, smiling sheepishly.

Saraj blinked. Jade's quarters. The time sphere. They all knew. El no longer had to hide. 

Even if he did. 

And the sword. How did he forget about the sword? 

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to focus on El's words.

Water rushed in his ears. Swept up in the pull of El's tide. 

He smiled, wider than ever before. Strange. He wasn't sure why. 

Saraj felt himself tossed up in El's arms, in the waves, the whole room bursting into applause. 

Like waves crashing into the rocks over and over again. 

The noise, the colours– they were too bright, too loud, swirling together into an impenetrable mass as he swirled in El's arms. 

He mumbled something to his shimmering lover. Lost in the chaos. 

Diamonds sparkled in the place of El's teeth. 

On his finger, too. 

El's eyes glowed like sapphires. Saraj instinctively covered his eye. 

Lips pressed to the hand on his face. 

Smiling softly. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It's amazing that people still care about this fic! I know I say this every time but I do feel genuinely baffled that people still read this... 
> 
> Things are gonna take a big old turn next chapter so please let me know if you wanna see that or if you have any theories! Hehe:3 <3  
> 


	11. Aphrodite's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the wedding edges closer, Saraj grows increasingly giddy. But is there something he has forgotten?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I hope you're ready for a big ol chonker of a chapter! Ahoy! There be drama ahead boys! 
> 
> [silly writer ramble, feel free to ignore] 
> 
> I've been trying to give Erik & Sari altered mannerisms and dialect to differentiate between them (Erik uses a lot more contractions and slang). I hope it shone through! Also!! It's important to note that when he's Sari he's trying so hard to appear Gallopolitan, but with limited knowledge so he's kind of a walking stereotype? At least Faris is here to set him straight (kinda) 
> 
> This chapter's Saraj art is [this gorgeous piece](https://dragonquesttbh.tumblr.com/post/189829255300/kariuskae-think-of-this-as-my-gift-to-the)
> 
> I'm gonna link something each time coz I've got some lovely, lovely drawings of ma boi and everyone deserves to see them! Thank you all so much ;-;
> 
> **This chapter is rated T for Toilet Guy. Oh and there's violence and sex references.**

Saraj stood, bathed in green light. 

El stepped forward, Her heart unfurling to his touch. 

Saraj shielded his eyes, stumbling forwards. 

"Wait!" 

The bright light faded, green shimmering in dancing embers through the grove. 

His hand pressed to El's arm. 

El's pupils blew wide, glowing softly in Her light. 

"Just…" Saraj pressed his lips together, eyes darting over the gleaming point of the blade. His fingers raked through golden curls. "Before you do this, just know I love you so, so much. But I do not expect you to love me." 

"Sari…" 

He fell to his knees, unable to look up into those big, blue eyes, his head bowed. 

"I'm ready." 

El poised the blade. 

The blinding light took him. 

* * *

El panted into his neck. His lips pressed gently to his skin, body flopping over Saraj's. "Love you," he mumbled, hair somehow ending up in his mouth. 

Saraj gently pulled back, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling sitting in his stomach as pleasure faded to worry. 

He loved El. And he loved sharing intimacy. 

But a certain word soured his mind. 

Cavern. 

El pressed another kiss to his cheek and rolled over him, grasping the cloth on the side. 

"How do you feel about green and gold for the theme?" he hummed, gently dabbing his stomach. "You know, Dundrasil meets Gallopolis kinda thing?" 

The last thing he wanted was their day to be slathered with gold. It was bad enough that he had to live in this body. 

He glanced at the mirror. Erik stared back. 

Erik. 

He jolted, urgently glancing at his arms– still bronzed– pulled at his hair– still curled– but the mirror. 

Blue, blue, blue. Blue eyes, blue hair, pale skin. His hand tentatively traced over his cheek. 

Erik's stayed in his hair, idly running through blue spikes. Not in sync. 

His jaw locked. 

He gingerly poked his cheek, just to be sure. Erik's hand continued to stroke through his hair, mocking. 

He sucked in painful air. 

"Sari!" El said firmly. "Have you been listening to me or have you just been staring in the mirror the whole time?" 

His eyes darted back to El's. 

El scoffed and turned around, glancing in the mirror. Saraj lunged forwards, just short of stopping him–

"You look fine!" El glanced back at him. 

Saraj fell back, relief drowning him. His own reflection fell back. 

"Hey are you…" 

Erik. Erik was gone. It had to be a trick of the light, a tired hallucination. He was gone. Gone forever. 

El stopped, cloth running just above his navel. His lips quivered. "What's wrong?" 

"Just something stupid." 

El tilted his head upwards, thumb pressing into his cheek. Saraj rolled his eyes. El had a way with him. A way that meant he had to spill all. 

Well, not quite all. 

El's lips parted, no sound exiting them. Patient. 

Saraj sighed. He picked at the gold tassels on the pillow. "Do you still enjoy intimacy with me?" 

El laughed. Soft and sweet and innocent– though his smile betrayed him. Pure mischief. 

"You didn't hear those sounds I was making?" His lips nudged the shell of Saraj's ear. "I'm pretty sure the rest of Dundrasil heard me." His body tangled with his, kisses landing sloppily over his neck. 

Saraj sighed, smile not quite reaching his lips. Typical El. His newfound passion had only grown as their wedding edged closer– not that he minded. When El was passionate he glowed with happiness. Mischievous and joyful. 

He didn't mind one bit. 

But he had to know. 

"Can you be honest with me?" 

El's smile faltered, becoming something softer, more serious. An oath. "Always." 

"Do I feel…" He bit his cheek, banishing the thought of Erik in the mirror. He was gone now. A ghost. "I noticed you've had a preference recently, which is okay but, uh, a preference– a preference for you to receive. Which is fine! Like I said…" 

El gently wove his fingers around his palm, waiting. 

"Do I feel…" Saraj groaned, "loose?" 

El's mouth fell open, useless. His brow scrunched, cheeks puffing as if it was the last thing he had been expecting. "What?!" 

Saraj pushed his arms back, sitting upright. "Don't laugh. I know I have no virtue remaining. That I'm used and worn out." 

"Sari, Sari, Sari…" El's arms slipped around his shoulders. 

"No, no, no! You said you'd be honest." He bit down on his lip. "If you don't want me like that just say!" 

"Sari!" he said firmly, shaking his shoulders. "Who fed you that crap?" 

Saraj's eyes widened. 

"It's a ring of muscle. It tightens under strain and relaxes with pleasure." 

"I know that. I'm not a complete idiot," he grumbled. 

El groaned. "Listen: what's the difference between someone who sleeps with the same person every night and someone who chooses a different partner each evening?" 

Partner. Saraj suppressed a laugh. 

El sighed. "There is none." 

He swallowed, cheeks heating up. 

El shook his head, pulling him firmly into his chest. "It's just something people say to shame people who enjoy sex. It's stupid." 

Saraj sniffed, body melting into El's. 

El had always been the smart one, more worldwise than anyone he had met– despite the fact he hadn't left his village until adulthood. 

Saraj bit his cheek. Stupid. Stupid for trusting Mony's callous words. It was a wonder he managed all those years before he met El. 

His head slotted under El's chin. He supposed he hadn't, really. Reckless law breaking and dirty money was all he had known. And drunken boyfriends with tempers. 

"I used to engage in sex work," he said, words spilling out in a long heaving sigh. "I was dating my ex and, and, well… he didn't like it. But it was quick money and I was tired of being thrown in jail."

He waited for El to cast him out of the bed. Silence. His fingers tapped the headboard. 

El slowly pulled back, hands circling at his bare hips. "You wanna talk to me about it?" 

Saraj wiped a tear from his eye. "Wh– El! They're not nice stories! It's okay if you hate me, I understand." 

"Hey, I could never– I know. Erik told me about it. But there were some good parts." He squeezed his hand gently. "Not that it was easy, obviously! He just found some good in it." 

Saraj smiled, if only to himself. And to the other him. 

El had had this conversation twice. The other Erik would have been just as frightened. Then reassured. 

El's palm ran soothingly over his back. 

"There was this one guy whose husband died." He shuffled closer, nudging Saraj half into his lap. The gentle hum of his voice rumbled through his chest. "He was a guard, Erik said, killed in patrol. And the guy would sit with him for an hour and just talk. Talk about all the pain he went through while Erik sat and listened." 

Saraj felt his throat throb. David. He hoped he was okay. If only he could slip back to Ruby and check in. 

"And there was this other guy who paid him to peel bananas with his feet." 

Saraj snorted. Nedward. There was a face he couldn't forget. 

He shook away the tears. "You really don't mind?" 

"Sari… I'm just happy you're safe and warm now. With somewhere to call home." 

El dug his palms into his side, just where it tickled. 

"Hey…" Saraj fell on top of him, giggling. "That's cheeky." 

El flipped him over, framing spun gold waves with two tanned forearms. He prodded his cheek. "And what, you're not?" 

Saraj grinned, sparkling like sunlight. 

El bit his lip. "How do you feel about hydrangeas?" 

* * *

The days passed by like nights, barely conscious they were slipping from him, shimmering with blue. Just like the contents of his stomach. 

The wedding only a week away. 

Bright hot fire surged in his reflection. 

Saraj pulled his hand back, yelping. The paper curled and burned, sparks dancing in his vision. 

_You should probably burn this or something, now you're officially marrying the dumbass._

He smiled at his reflection. 

Forgiveness, in writing. 

The only blessing he needed. 

It would be hard breaking away from El during such a public affair, but maybe he could employ Sylv and some tactical juggling balls as a distraction to run to her. 

He had to thank her for her change of heart. Expose himself to the loving jibes and overblown boasts characteristic of his turbulent sister. 

He groaned. It was cruel to burn it. A damning piece of evidence if he didn't. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, watching embers dance into the air. 

It was too risky to go to her now. He had to ignore the ache in his chest. Only had a week to wait. His finger ran over the ash at the edge of the sink, tracing a line. 

He was lucky El wasn't the type to go through his post. Any letter or scrap of a note addressed to him at Ruby's would be scrutinised by Derk and used against him. 

Love letters were common in his profession. 

Derk hated it. 

Ash heaped in the sink. Saraj fished through the pile, stealing himself a tiny, blank scrap. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, briefly pressing his lips to the blackened parchment. He tucked it carefully at the back of the cabinet. A precious reminder of his sister's love. 

"Sari–" 

A glint of blue sparkled in the corner of his eye. Erik laughed. 

The tap gushed into the basin, his hands desperately clawing the ash into the drain. El would smell the burning the second he entered the room. Shit. 

"I'm just popping out for a fitting. I'll be back in an hour!" he called joyfully. 

Saraj broke into a fractured smile. "Okay!" 

The door handle turned. 

His heart throbbed. 

The handle stayed down. "Wait, are you taking a shit?" 

"Uh, yeah!" he called, voice straining. "Might be a while." 

"Right, well, I won't kiss you goodbye then. Make sure to spray some perfume!" 

Saraj's shoulders fell back down. "Okay, _your majesty._ Love you."

A delighted giggle. "Love you too, Sari." 

The handle slid back up, El's footsteps receding. 

Saraj spun on his heel, comforting warmth consuming him, vision swirling. He glanced back in the mirror, flashing himself a grin. Him, just him. 

Giddy excitement swam in his head. 

He was really marrying him. The Luminary. His El. 

For once, luck was on his side. 

* * *

Faris' fingers pressed into his cheek, kohl smoothly tracing over his closed lid. "Not exactly authentic Gallopolitan but… it is not like any Drasilian could tell." 

Saraj's fingers clenched and unclenched. 

Today. 

Maybe El wouldn't even be there. Maybe he would arrive at the cathedral, horribly overdressed, to be laughed at. It couldn't be real. 

His dream. His worst nightmare. 

He shuffled in the seat. "You said something about an ancient civilisation?"

"Ha HA! Yes! You are a keen listener, Saraj!" Faris' hand shifted up his cheek, kohl reaching the inner corner of his eye. "Just a little North of Gallopolis once stood these magnificent pointed tombs, though little was thought to remain. Until recently, it seems! Father sent out our bravest desert knights, who now have no foes left to do battle with, for the purpose of unearthing the site in which the Slayer appeared..."

Saraj smiled, leaning back in the chair, allowing Faris' babbling to drift over him. Being pampered wasn't so bad, especially if it was to please El. 

They were getting married. An eternal bond. A holy spell. 

He dug his nails into his palms. Something gnawed at the edge of his mind, something long forgotten–

"An ancient tomb, of all things! To the great Pharis! It is he that your attire is inspired by. A king so handsome and strong his people treated him as a God." 

"And you are my Pharis, truly worthy of worship." 

Saraj bit back a smile. Faris' new man was eccentric to say the least– and strangely familiar, though he couldn't place where from. His memory was oddly fractured these days. 

But Faris was happy, fiercely so, and Saraj couldn't help but let that lightness wash over him. Not long. Not long until he could surrender into El's arms, just them. 

His husband. 

"No wonder the Pharis of old were venerated so," the man continued, "those viaducts were something to be admired. It is a pity that all that remains are ruins." 

"Oh, Lou! I promise once I take father's throne I will build you all the violin ducks you desire." 

Saraj giggled softly. 

"Open!" 

Saraj stifled a snort. Faris was a lot at the best of times, but especially alarming when inches from his face. 

Faris squinted, tilting his head from side to side. "Ah! Perfect! Doesn't he look beautiful?" 

"Indeed. But only the second most handsome Gallopolitan in the room." 

"Oh stop it, Lou!" Faris flushed deeply, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. 

Saraj glanced back in the mirror, smiling. The smooth lines elegantly framed his eyes with black, the gold of his irises shimmering. A hint of blue decorated the edge. Matching the spreading blue of his left iris. 

He grinned. 

Faris may not have known his way around a sword but had a natural flair when it came to brushes, it seemed. The immaculate kohl and the subtle shimmer to his cheekbones– it was clean and precise, far better than anything he could do. No wonder Frysabel had requested him specifically for her and Krystalinda's wedding. 

And the prince knew all the garment makers in Gallopolis like the back of his hand. The gorgeous pleated linen– Gallopolitan made– looped over the back of his neck, the two swathes of cloth crossing over his chest and swooping down his forearms, secured with golden cuffs. 

A gleaming gold band sat just above his hips, set with deep sapphires, giving way to a cascade of more pristine linen, shimmering legs peeking between the layers. 

A circlet sat on a bed of gold ringlets, a little uncertain. 

El's amber earrings wobbled in his ears.

Saraj touched his cheek. 

A sight to behold. 

Faris beamed, throwing his head back in laughter. 

El had known exactly what he was talking about: Faris knew clothes. He shouldn't have doubted him, and admittedly felt a little guilty for his hesitance. El had trusted him, with good reason.

"Thank you." 

Faris straightened from his position on Lou's lap. "It was an honour!" 

His eyes danced back to the mirror. Erik stared back. His stomach dropped. Cold. Heavy. Low. 

"Lou… you mustn't utter such filth in my ear!" Faris giggled noisily. 

"You say, your majesty, as if you are not filthier than a Valoran Sewer…" 

Erik glanced away, but Saraj kept staring. Erik splashed water over his face, blue hair glistening with droplets. 

Saraj reached out, gingerly pressing his palm to the mirror. 

He would not let this man ruin his day. There was no way–

Erik stared back, eyes wide. A silent shout. 

Glass splintered under his palm. 

Blood dripped down a single broken shard. 

Drip, drip, drip. 

"The sword!"

Saraj forced himself to his feet. Forgotten, how had he forgotten? The unrelenting pain, the lack of sleep– why hadn't he searched for it before?

He wiped his bloodied palm on his side. 

It would be impossible to sneak it from El's chambers, Jade and Gemma would be there already.

But he couldn't afford to pass out on this day, in the middle of the aisle.

His gaze flickered to the crimson staining his clothes. 

Or worse. 

He leapt back, eyes darting to his left. Rattled. 

Faris quickly removed his hand from his shoulder. "Are you okay my friend? Oh! I am sure I can lift the stain, there is still plenty of time–" 

Saraj rushed out of the door, down the corridor. Faster, faster, faster. Before he fell down. 

His knuckle rapped furiously at the door. 

El peeled the door open slowly. His face slackened. The door slammed shut. "You're not supposed to see me. It's bad luck!" 

"It's really important, Ellie." 

The door begrudgingly creaked open. 

His breath halted. Only Erik called him Ellie. He really must be losing it. 

El tugged him through the opening, crushing him to his chest. "I wanted to see you, too." His fingers trailed down his jaw, brushing his lip. "I wanted you so bad. I missed you so much." 

Saraj's lips tingled. 

"Seriously you two?" Jade yanked at the frills of her puffed out dress. 

Saraj bit his lip. It reminded him of those ridiculous dolls rich people had to cover their toilet rolls. Very Jade. 

She shot him a fierce glare. "Right now?" 

"No I… I need your special sword." 

El snorted, a little smug. "You couldn't wait until after the reception, pumpkin?" 

"Ugh!" Saraj pushed him away, reaching under the bed. "The Sword of Light!" 

He whipped his head around, ready to offer a disapproving stare. His eyes caught on something entirely different. "You're not wearing any pants." 

"Well I'm a true Drasilian so…" 

Saraj slid his hand up the back of El's kilt, giggling. "So smooth." 

His breath stuttered. El knelt beside him, hand sneaking under layers of linen to brush his thigh. His mind drifted to the custom jewel encrusted thong. He grabbed El's hand. "Secret." 

El's hand begrudgingly settled on his cheek instead, though Saraj knew the grump was only for show. Those eyes held too much love to ever be truly hurt. 

"You look beautiful." 

His lips came down to Saraj's, hands tugging him close. He tasted like honey, warm and sweet. He hungered for more. It was so easy to get lost in moments like these– El's undivided attention all poured into him like a bottle filled with sunlight. 

"The Sword of Light?" Jade asked tersely. 

"Oh." Saraj pulled back. He wiped his lips. The spell broken. "Mm, yeah." 

"Why do you need that?" 

El glanced back to Jade, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

"It lifts curses," he said coyly, running his hand over El's cheek as a feeble attempt at distraction. 

The silence echoed in his skull. His hand trailed in El's hair. 

Jade watched curiously. 

"A friend of mine. Please, you must trust me…" Sari swallowed, guilt thick in his throat. "Just give it to me and I'll give it right back." 

"It's with Her. Yggdrasil." El shook his head, disappointment tinging his features. He kept something from him. And it wasn't even half the secret. "Can't it wait until after you become my husband?" 

Husband. He kept this from his future husband. And he still wasn't sure what the sword would do, but he was running on borrowed time. Slowly slipping away. For months it had been. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

El's hand playfully reached out, likely wanting to brush the doubt off, end the punishing silence.

Saraj pushed him back, standing. "It's me. I'm cursed." 

El's mouth opened. Jade's stare deepened. 

Saraj crumpled back onto the bed, head in his hands. 

"The stomach upset? The fainting? The gaps in my memory? I don't even remember you proposing to me!" A hot tear fell to his lap. "I don't know what is going to happen to me if we don't do something now…" 

El rushed forwards, hands clasping his knees. "How long?" he asked, voice flat and small. 

"Since before we met." 

El's head whipped to the side. "Right, Jade, tell Rab where we're going and that he needs to stall for time. We'll be back as soon as we can." 

Jade glared, fiercely digging her heel into the plush carpet. 

"Shit." El stumbled to his feet, planting a kiss to Saraj's forehead. 

Jade yanked him away. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she hissed. 

"Jade, he's in pain. I have to do something!" 

"The other timeline, El!" She shook him roughly. "Mordegon took the sword at Yggdrasil and plunged the world into darkness. How do you know that this whole relationship wasn't a ploy, a way to get to you?" 

El's jaw tightened. 

"Why your wedding day of all days? You're relaxed, your guard is down, the men are off duty–" 

"No!" 

"No." Jade gripped his shoulders tighter. "I know you love him but doesn't this scream suspicion? Rab and Veronica both said he had an ominous aura." 

"She's right." Saraj stood. "Bring everyone. Cuff me if you like. Just quickly. I don't want to…" 

He sucked in a breath. 

"Faint in the cathedral," he said solemnly. 

El nodded, tears falling like crystals. "Get everyone, now!" 

* * *

For a while, nothing happened. 

Bright, white light. 

Searing and hot and holy. 

The sword fell to the grass, El's eyes wide and horrified. 

"You idiot! Bloody, bloody idiot!" Jade swept in and took the blade. "Don't put it within his reach!" 

Yggdrasil tipped to the side. His head on the ground. Faint voices echoed, fragments of sentences swimming in the air like lost souls. 

"Oh for goodness sake! He's not trying to take over the world!" The smell of Sylv's sweet violet flooded his senses. His hand on his back. Comfort. Freedom. "Honey, honey, breathe, breathe with me…" 

He gave a frightening wheeze. "Do I look–?" 

"The same, sweetie. Saraj." Sylv urgently glanced to his left. "Serena's gonna come over and fix that little booboo of yours, okay? You'll be just fine…" 

Serena's hand pressed to his clammy back. It hurt. Everything hurt. His vision spotted at the edges. Yggdrasil writhed and danced in lurid purple. Nightmarish. 

"Right, this might hurt a tad..." 

Magic pulsed. Fire ignited within. He screamed. 

"Oh goodness, oh goodness, oh goodness! I'm ever so sorry!" 

"Did you do the right spell?" Veronica demanded. 

His head split like tree bark. 

"I'm sure of it." Serena clamped a hand to her mouth. "Oh goodness, I've done something awful!" 

"So healing spells reverse… Interesting," Veronica hummed, tapping her staff. "Maybe if we used an offensive spell…" 

El lunged forwards. Saraj groaned. His body twitched. His mouth bitter. 

"Stop! You're hurting him!" 

The green blurred. Purple seeped in. 

"Honey! Honey! You need to stay with us."

Saraj wheezed, his head pulled onto a lap. El's cheeks glistened. He looked beautiful. But hurt. Very, very hurt. 

His hands clawed at the grass, trembling. 

His fault. 

"Honey!"

Saraj groaned. El's body curled over him. 

"Tell us where this witch is," Sylv said firmly, brows pinching. "Now!" 

He looked to El. A man ready to shatter. 

Time to sacrifice his pride. Do the unthinkable. 

For him. For Mia. 

He wouldn't be able to much longer, body disintegrating around him like falling leaves. 

"Dun…" Saraj's head flopped to the side, tongue like lead. His head numb. Vision swirling. No people, just shapes. Faceless voices. 

He blinked. Blood on his lip. Not now. No time to surrender. Not to the heavy pull of dark. 

El held him steadily. "Dundrasil?" he mumbled, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. 

Saraj's head twitched to the side. "Down… Red…" 

"Downtown?" Sylv called. 

"Mmph."

His hand feebly traced an arch. It flopped uselessly to the side. A puppet cut from his strings. 

Not ready to meet the puppet master. 

"Red…" El cradled his fallen arm. His body tensed. "Red door?" 

Saraj groaned, twisting in his partner's lap. 

Scattered voices, thrown to the wind. Gone, gone, gone.

Yggdrasil seethed and burnt, smouldering into his mind even as his eyes fell shut. 

" _Sari!_ " 

* * *

He blinked. A collar pressed to his cheek. El's pulse thudding through his veins. 

The door smacked against stone, Jade's heel spiking through splintering wood. She shrieked. 

His blood ran cold. 

"The bloody thing scorched me!" 

"Right," Veronica's voice rang out, too sharp and too clear, "keep an eye out for traps!" 

His face fell back to El's shirt, head rolling to the side. Footsteps jolted him from below. 

Over the threshold. 

A mumbled promise, pressed to the corner of his mouth. 

Blinding light. 

Saraj's eyes– forced open. His head throbbing. 

El stumbled forwards, foot catching on the edge of polished rock. 

Ancient stone steps shone anew, curving down to a carved stone temple, bathed in golden silk. Familiar. But like nothing from this century. 

Saraj squinted, the false sunlight burning his eyes. 

"How is this possible?" Veronica squawked. 

"It's… beautiful…" Jade sighed. 

All Saraj caught were glimpses. Pearlescent streams. A lush canopy. Gleaming drapes. 

His left eye stung. 

"I didnae think I'd ever see this place," Rab marvelled, hand faintly coming up to scratch his head. "I thought it was… lost to time forever." 

_Lost to time forever, lost to time forever, lost to time forever..._

Saraj groaned, pulse spiking in his temple. 

"We need to keep going," El said, voice breaking with resolve, "to the funeral _."_

Saraj bit down on his lip. El's voice wavered and jumbled. Jittery and false. Why would El take him to a funeral? 

He knew. He knew and he was going to kill him. 

Treason bore a heavy price.

His head shook violently. She was here. She was here. She was in his head. 

"I don't know…" El's voice rang out, barely audible, "sort him… and get back… ceremony..." 

"Right!" 

Saraj's chest throbbed. His limbs quivered. She was close. Too close. With the damage the Sword has wreaked on his body, there was little he could do to stop El walking to his doom. 

Each step ignited him with fresh pain.

"I suppose whatever evil is in there is what caused the ancient civilisation to fall," Veronica said, steely voice echoing down the staircase.

They were inside. 

The torches on the wall threw sickly orange light over him. 

The double doors lay wide open. 

Her _._

"Welcome back, children of light," she cooed, voice clear and crisp as frost. 

"You made a deal with _her_?!" Veronica screeched. 

His eyes strained to look forwards. 

Flowing orange hair, the luscious gown, the bandage at her neck where a key once sat. 

Of course. 

She was in the same position as before. Many, many years before. Except this time she stood in full colour, the mural pallowing in her presence. 

Fooled by her disguise, as El had been by his. 

A willing lamb to her slaughter. 

Stupid. 

His fault. 

He slipped his ankle under El's arms, lightly kicking at his hold. His feet fell to the floor, free. 

The ceiling lurched back. El caught him as he swayed. 

"Lemme talk to her," he huffed, words slurring. 

"Sari, she's dangerous!" El's arms tightened around his waist. "We fought her before, she could hurt you!" 

Dora's mouth split into an icy grin. "I gave him the gift of eternal beauty. I see not what he has to complain of." 

Her sickening laughter echoed around the room, bouncing off the stark mural. 

"We destroyed you!" Jade cried, twirling her spear. "And we'll do it again." 

"Not quite. I was ugly, foul." She held a hand to her forehead. "A piteous creature. Until one little thief walked right into my open palm and gave me infinite power." 

"Thief?" El's voice cracked painfully. 

"Oh?" Dora pressed a finger to her poison lips. "You didn't know the one you carry in your arms was once a thief?" 

"I don't care about that!" 

"You don't seem to care about him much at all, do you? Poor thing."

El ground his teeth. 

"Those earrings you gave him, they've been draining his life force from the moment you gave them to him. Or do you not recall the tumble he took when he fell down those stairs?" 

El tensed behind him."They were made to heal!" His hands fumbled at Saraj's ears, throwing the earrings across the room. 

"The reverse charm," Rab exclaimed. "That'll be the noxious aura surrounding the poor lad! To think we were blaming him… but it was you!" 

"Lift the curse, now!" El cried. 

"And why would I do that?" she purred, edging closer. "Each step he takes closer to the darkness, I take closer to the light! I will reign supreme!" 

"Lift the curse!" El shakily fumbled for his sword. "Or I'll make you."

"What is done cannot be undone." 

Saraj wheezed, knees close to buckling. 

Veronica grunted, hands glowing orange. Bright hot fire bounced back. She fell to the ground. Thunk. 

Dora cackled. "Your mere tricks have no effect on me." She smirked at Saraj and clicked her fingers. The doors shuddered closed. Impenetrable stone. "Though you have been incredibly weak to his deception." 

"El…" Saraj crumpled, slipping through El's grip, ready to slam against solid ground. 

His landing was soft. Warm. He was tired. Comfy. Almost ready to give in. Sink back into comfort. 

El urgently brushed a curl from his cheek, pooling him in his lap. "I'm here. I'm here Sari– Please!" A tear splashed onto his cheek. "Tell me how I can help. Please." 

Jade launched at Dora, roaring. Her kick bounced off a deep purple barrier. Her body cracked against the hard stone. 

"Princess!" 

"Jade!" Serena rushed to her side. 

Hendrik barrelled forwards, Rab flanking him. Saraj blinked the blackness away. 

He was on the floor. Rab behind him. 

Veronica shakily pushed to her feet, readying another fireball. 

Dora smirked, flicking back the spell as it was an insect on her shoulder. She narrowed her gaze on Sylvando. He stood, rapier boldly raised.

She lifted her hand. Her eyes fixed on Saraj. "If you tell them the truth, perhaps I will spare them." 

"Just lift the curse!" El cried, limbs trembling. 

Saraj glanced to Jade, panting on the floor, arm bent the wrong way. Serena cradling her, tears beading on her cheeks. Hendrik, flat on his back, barely breathing. Rab curled up in the corner. Veronica, one plait scorched, blood on her face. Sylvando, ready to selflessly throw himself to Dora's mercy. 

And El. Staring down at him, glassy eyed. 

"What do you want?" he demanded, voice a little uncertain. 

"The truth." Her smirk twisted. 

El's sad eyes stung his core. 

Sari choked on tears, chest violently throbbing. "I'm not, I'm not who I say I am!" 

Dora lowered her hand minutely. 

"I know, sweetheart." El's fingers dragged up his cheek soothingly. "I don't mind. We've talked about this." 

"No," he mumbled, tears taking over his voice. His hand made a desperate grab for El's. "It's me, partner. It's always been me."

A flicker of recognition. El's arms slipped from his waist. 

Dora's hand came crashing down. 

An almighty crack. 

Saraj groaned. Blinding light. A bolt from the blue. 

Blue. 

Streaked all over his hands, shimmering and disgusting. He retched. 

" _You!_ " Veronica screeched. "You fucking idiot! You fucking dimwit, dunderhead, small-dicked useless, shameless little prick!" 

Erik hunched forwards on his hands and knees, panting roughly, blinking back blue. Gold crept up his body, casing him in shimmering light. Curls sprang up where spikes momentarily stood. 

"Your travel in time may have put a sabrecat among the pigeons and rendered my spell… Imperfect." Dora tapped the corner of her eye. "But it is no matter. Humans are stupid, weak. Especially the fated Luminary. I still get what I want. Dundrasil shall fall and I shall be crowned Queen!" 

Saraj clamped his hands over his ears, only partly to shield himself from her maniacal laughter. 

For a long time, no one spoke. 

Ragged breaths. 

"Erik…" 

His heart broke. Who knew one name could hurt that much. 

He sat back on his knees, brushing a hand through his hair. Sticky blue streaked through his curls. Tears dropped to the blood stained floor. A picture of misery. 

"I'm Saraj," he said, keeping composure in his voice. 

"But you're not," El cried, pulling stringy hair from his own face. "He doesn't exist." his body shook, palms trembling. "He never existed!" 

The sound of his panting echoed through the silence. 

"Who do you think walked into your Chambers that time?" he said softly, huffing with nerves. More fresh, hot tears fell. They burned. 

"You…" El sucked in a breath, head shaking, "You tricked me!" 

"It was…" Saraj glanced around, meeting stares of various degrees of horrified and distraught.

Except Sylv. Sylv looked at him with pity. 

That was somehow worse. 

"... The only way," he finished numbly. 

"What you've done is just so wrong– making me fall in love with someone who doesn't even exist!" El's fingers clawed at his arms, leaving livid red marks. "You could've come to see me anytime, Erik! But you chose to do this instead." 

"That's a lie and you know it!" he growled, the loudness of his voice causing him to flinch. "You, you… You loved the other Erik more than you ever loved me! If you even loved me at all." 

He always thought that would feel good. But it was horrible. More vile than the magic eating at him. 

Dora giggled. 

El wheezed, eyes bursting with tears. His head fell onto his hands, fingers tearing at his hair. 

"Right, I've had quite enough of this!" Veronica marched up to him, pointing a furious finger. "You're a stupid fucking waste of space, Erik. But we can beat you up afterwards. We need to defeat her, now." 

"You can't." He scrubbed at his eyes. "She has a barrier up." 

"And? How do we break it? You know her best. Since you two are such good friends." 

Saraj swallowed. A tear dropped off his nose. He knew. They all knew. And they hated him.

His throat stung. Tears splattered on the ground. Blood. Not just his.

His fist clenched. He nodded to himself. Final. 

Mia was smart. She had a girlfriend who loved her. She would be just fine. 

"Okay everyone, I'm Erik." he bit his cheek, glancing between his friends. "I fell in love with an idiot prince. But I lied. I decieved him. And I'm finally going to do the right thing."

Veronica's lips pursed. 

Slowly, he stood, bracing his hands unsteadily on his knees. His mouth tightened. His legs wobbled, shaking as he staggered towards Dora. 

"Do what you want, I'm yours. Just let them go, 'kay?" 

Toxic laughter spilled from her lips. "Very well, dearest Saraj. I'm sorry to say I grew fond of your tragic self." Her nail cut into his cheek. "But as much as I enjoyed watching this little play, all shows must come to an end." 

"No!" 

Erik's feet gave way, waist wrenched back by familiar arms. El gripped him tightly. "I won't lose you again." 

Erik kicked back weakly. "Lemme go, idiot." 

El shook his head, grip tightening. 

"And you will never lose him again." 

Dora raised her hand. 

Erik breathed in. The breath stayed in his lungs. 

Time slowed. 

His breath sparkling. 

El's tears in mid air. Mouth in a silent scream. His arms reaching forward. 

His body, glowing. 

Wait.

When had he moved from El's arms? 

Light. Horrible, piercing blue light. Going, going, going… 

El's hand caught his, brief and firm and steady. Sudden clarity. 

Brighter light. Erik smiled bleakly. 

"This isn't goodbye," he said, fading, fading...

El's mouth twitched with pain. Eyes red raw. 

"Not by a long shot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… is this goodbye? That's up to you guys. Well, actually it's up to me but, y'know, what do you think? 
> 
> The other day someone mentioned that "Aphrodite" was similar to Dora-in-Grey and I was there like _shit, shit they got me all figured out..._
> 
> If you go back to the start you'll notice the descriptions of her were very deliberate, particularly the colours. She started off as the boss fight colours (green/ purple) then transitioned to the mural image (orange/ gold) as her power grew. Hats off to everyone who spotted! 
> 
> Anyway, what did you think of the reveal? Please lemme know in the comments! Thank you for sticking with me <3


	12. Luminary's Light Burnt Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El struggles to cope after the events of the Mural, grappling with the knowledge that his lover was a lie. Tensions in the castle reach boiling point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! <3 
> 
> This one is gonna be dark. The following warnings refer to topics discussed by the characters. It's all in dialogue. No graphic depictions or detail here. 
> 
> **CW: depression, mania, suicide mention, alcohol dependency, violence, past sexual assault**
> 
> These topics are important to discuss & I have strived to do this in a non triggering way. 
> 
> This chapter's Saraj art is [this gorgeous piece](https://dragonquesttbh.tumblr.com/post/635517387770347520/him)
> 
> He's so fucking beautiful. Thank you so much to everyone who has drawn my boye. It brightens the life of this silly gay recluse. 
> 
> To avoid any confusion: **Faiz** is the champion horse rider and **Faris** is the Prince.

Boots thumped against stone. 

El groaned, rolling his head back. Probably Hendrik with another scolding. Or Jade ready with a punch to the arm. 

He sucked at his cheek, staring at the rotting ceiling. Stupid. 

"So you've been up to no good, huh?" 

His head shot up. 

Blue hair peaked out in the gloom. 

El laughed, pulling his hood down. "Didn't do nothin'." 

Pale hands clasped at the bars. Sharp blue eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "Then why are you in here, dumbass?" 

El shrugged. "Just a fun place to hang." 

"Just fun, huh?" Bright white teeth. The signature smirk. "Coz I heard you did something pretty bad." 

El hummed, flicking a piece of fluff off his shoulder. 

"Is that blood on your shirt?" 

"Not mine." 

"Not your shirt or not your blood?" 

"Both, probably." He drew his knees into his chest, leaning his chin on his hands. "Anyway, long time no see. How are you?" 

* * *

El ran his fingertips over the stubble on his scalp, grinning. Sylv's look of horror etched into his brain.

His grin grew wider. 

Served him right. He knew, he fucking knew who Saraj was and never said a word. Fucked him too. The biggest fuck you El could have got. 

Besides, it was good that stupid hair was gone now. It was always getting in the way. 

He bit his lip. Beautiful. The most handsome prince in the six kingdoms. 

His head swayed to the side, to the tune of a long forgotten song. 

The meeting would be a breeze. 

Stupid boring old men being stupid and boring. At least he had something to liven it up. 

He leapt to his feet. Clothes. He needed clothes. 

Clothes– clothes– clothes! 

His fingers tore through the silks and velvets of his closet, both disinterested and feverish. 

Amber and gold?

Gold. 

Maybe not gold. 

He dragged his hands viciously through the swathes of cloth. Green and blue? 

Not blue. Definitely not blue. 

The tunic fell to the floor. He inhaled deeply. He smiled. 

Red. Hot, fiery red. Maybe a little skin. He caught the way some of the members of the council stared at him. They wouldn't mind. 

Men were stupid and easy to trick. 

He paused, bedclothes on the floor. His body– toned and smooth and gorgeous. Irresistible. 

He tugged on the tunic, neglecting the trousers on the floor. He yanked the cuffs down, ensuring they covered his wrists. Slipped the glove over his right hand. 

Perfect. His reflection winked. 

He fell back on the bed, smiling. Time to grab a little fun. 

His hand reached under the bed, giddy. 

The lid fell to the floor. 

He rolled his eyes, lips hissing. Gin with wine wasn't ideal. But there was only so much he could sneak from the cellars without the guards noticing. 

The door hatch crunched. 

El quickly shoved the bottle under the bed. 

"Are you ready?" 

El nodded, happily enough. 

Jade fell on the bed beside him. "Look I know it's boring–" her nose twitched. "Where is it?" 

El reached for his water. "Where's what, sis?" 

Jade's heels screeched against the floor. 

Tap, scrape, tap. 

Her arm swept across his dresser, casting perfume bottles aside. El flinched, pain burning in his temple. Glass splintered on the tile. The heady scent of oud tingled his senses. 

His mouth twitched. That was expensive. He would have to go back to Gallopolis to purchase another. Or, rather, the guards would have to since he was trapped in this plush velvety prison. 

Jade growled. Her palms slapped against solid wood. El's heart jumped. 

The rosewood dresser. 

El stumbled to his feet. His ankle clashed with the bedside table. He growled. "No, Jade, Please!"

Jade tore open his drawer. The drawer. Erik's drawer. He should have left it locked. 

Sharp, throbbing pain tore up his throat. 

Painted nails ghosted over cream hottonese silk. Jade's eyes cast back. "You… you have wedding stuff? You and Erik…" 

That name. His fingers clenched. 

Her eyes glazed over, hands carefully wrapping around the album. 

El snorted, bracing himself against the wall. His nails scraped over his shirt sleeves. He smiled. 

"I haven't been drinking." 

"Your breath reeks." Jade gently placed the album back in the drawer. "You can't see the council like this." 

"Why not?" El twirled a dangly tassel playfully. "It's more fun like this?" 

Her lips tightened. "Erdrea is on the verge of war." 

"It's kinda funny though." El strolled forwards, arm swaying to the side. "Big macho men fighting over their territory. Almost… sexy?"

Jade grabbed his wrist. He winced, pulling away. 

Her grip faltered, eyes soft and sad. 

"It's nothing." 

Her lip wobbled. "El…"

He yanked his arm back, carefully pulling the ornate cuff back over the bandage. "You should know by now, I'm really fucking bad at trying to kill myself." He huffed, glancing in the mirror. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin. 

Not all that sexy. 

"And that's funny is it?" 

El smiled. Anger suited her much better. 

"Yeah. I'm pathetic. A failure in every way possible. But at least I know how to have fun." He flicked his palm in an imaginary toast. 

A muffled screech. Her heel dug into the carpet. "Hurting yourself isn't going to bring him back!"

El looked at her with heavy lidded eyes. 

"Who?" 

* * *

Veronica wretched. 

El's eyes watered. 

That nauseating scent. 

Flesh burning. 

White hot fingers splayed over his palm. A branded handprint. The last moment of panic. Of Erik. Smoking on his skin. 

It hurt. Barely. 

Or nothing, nothing compared, nothing could compare...

Dora howled with laughter, each screech more intolerable than the last. She placed a finger to her lips. "Isn't he beautiful?" 

Sickening. El's stomach convulsed violently. 

Sickening, shimmering blue tiles struck against ghastly, glittering gold– a cruel line carving his lover in two. His lover in the mural. Beautiful but unmoving. Not dead or alive. Worse. 

Trapped. 

A phantom hand touched his shoulder. His head whipped around, hand on his blade. 

Jade. Not him. Blood dripping down her face. Arm hanging limply at her side. 

"I think she's had enough now." She swallowed. "We should go." 

His eyes flitted around the room: friends bruised and battered but slowly moving. Moving, heading towards the tiniest splash of sunlight. 

The doors– they were open now. He barely cared whether it was a trick or not. 

How long had he been standing here? 

The pain in his chest stuttered. Unbearable. Unstoppable. 

He bit down hard on his lip. 

Hands gripped the hilt of his sword, trembling. 

Nothing to lose. 

His life was worthless without Erik and Saraj. 

His sword arm swung forwards, body prepared to be flung back against the wall. Maybe if he hit her enough he wouldn't have to get up. 

_Clash_. 

Purple fizzed across his vision. 

Dora screeched, but not with laughter this time. No, no, no. This screech was piercing. Electric. Almost… Addictive. Heavy black plumes of smoke burst from her chest. 

Serena gasped. "The Sword…" 

The barrier fell to the floor, shattering like tinted glass. 

El ignored the twitches of weapons unsheathed, the uneasy steps of companions. 

He fixed his eyes on Dora. 

El laughed, mirroring the obnoxious cackle she was proudly projecting just moments earlier. 

Erik and Saraj watched on, eyes lifeless gemstones. 

Leaping forward, he slashed, stabbed, smashed, crushed. Didn't stop. Didn't stop. Didn't stop. Adrenaline cracked his mouth into a crooked grin, growing with every fresh burst of smoke. 

Her body crumbled and writhed, mouth wide in a silent scream. 

"I already have what I want," she whispered raggedy, falling back against the mural. Smoke poured from her eyes. El growled. She didn't deserve to touch him. 

She didn't deserve to be near him. 

She grinned. "Dundrasil will fall, her future King a monster!" 

"Who said I wanted to be King!" El raised his sword high above his head, then slashed down. 

Purple ashes hit the floor. 

The sword struck clean through, scattering the ashes. 

"El stop, she's gone," Jade said softly. 

El shoved her back, eyes wild. 

He roared, sword clanging against the stone floor. Brutal, sharp, shockwaves shot up his arm. He swung again. And again. And again. His arm burned. 

Sylv offered Jade a hand, shooting him a disciplinary glare. 

El spun around and glared back. "Dora's gone, huh?" 

"Yes, sweetie," Sylv said tentatively, backing away ever so slightly. 

El growled. 

"Well so is he." 

* * *

El stumbled down the corridor, skipping every other step, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"El, wait!" Jade called desperately. 

He twirled around the corner, giggling. 

A muffled cry– his muffled cry. 

Big strong arms. His chest squeezed. His feet yanked from under him. The heavy weight of the curtain obscuring his vision. 

A hand wrapped at his throat, gauntlet over his mouth. Hidden. Jade trotted past the alcove. 

El's chest pounded. 

Cool glass slipped up the back of his tunic. 

His chest heaved. 

"Your majesty is under arrest. He has been very, incredibly bad." 

His hairs prickled at the Gallopolitan intonation. 

"Faiz… you _scared_ me," he purred, glancing back through his lashes. 

Damp lips pressed to his neck. "I thought his majesty might want something to tide the meeting over?" 

His hand firmly patted the bottle, jolting El's senses. 

"Thank you, my noble desert knight. I need to go now." 

El slipped half out– body briefly freed from the curtain– before was wrenched back beneath it. Hands pinned either side of his face. 

Lips on his. 

El shoved him back, groaning. "Not yet." 

He tasted nothing like him. Bitter. Like tar. 

Faiz released him. "You keep saying you are going to reward me for my good nature but you never do." He flicked under his chin. "His majesty is nothing but a dirty tease." 

"You like my teasing." 

Faiz scoffed. "Do I? Or do I want something more?" His lips pressed lightly to his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone. 

El stared off at the wall, as if Faiz was touching someone else. 

Faiz was handsome. He was funny. Most of all, he didn't feel the least bit sorry for him: El detested the pathetic looks the others gave him.

So why didn't he feel anything?

His breath hitched. He felt Faiz's hands wander. Mm, he felt certain things. 

But it wasn't the same. 

For all his sweet talking, Faiz was rough and crude. Maybe that's what El wanted. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, "Need to go." He pressed his lips to the stubble of his cheek. 

Faiz gripped his wrist. 

El bit his lip, pain still fresh. 

"In aid of this little… _affair_ , I may have performed an exchange of shifts." Smirking lips pressed closer. "His Majesty can expect me outside his room on Tuesday eve." 

El's pulse throbbed in his ears. Palms twitched. Thighs tensed. 

Lips on his ear. "Make it worth my while." 

El hummed, slipping out from behind the curtain. 

He pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling the sudden peel of giggles. Something to liven up his dull week. Faris tonight, Faiz tomorrow. Not bad. 

It wasn't as if Erik or Saraj had a right to be mad at him. He slept with one of their closest friends. And that vile, greedy pervert from Phnom Nomh. 

It didn't make sense. Erik hated that man. 

Maybe Sylv was lying. Trying to make his act of betrayal seem less poisonous. 

Stupid clown. 

His bare feet slapped against the stone corridor, slowing to a leisurely pace as he approached the Great Hall. 

"Your Highness, is it truly wise–" 

"Fuck off, Hendrik." El strolled past him, hand brushing the heavy oaken door. He paused, then spun on his heel. 

"Why exactly are you here?" 

Hendrik cleared his throat. "I serve and protect Dundrasil and her people." 

El shook his head, laughing. He stepped up to Hendrik, prodding his chest. "No, no, no. He left you, that's why. He left you because you're about as much fun to talk to as a brick." 

Hendrik remained stone faced. 

"He left you because…" El twisted on the ball of his foot. "Because you're boring as shit and, oh," El lifted his finger in the air. "Your ex lover is a tart. A prize tart. He _really_ ought to learn to keep the damn thing in his pants."

Hendrik's mouth twitched. 

"But you know what entertainers are like?" El laughed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Fucking whores. Thieves too. What is it with rogues and clowns?" 

El relished in the squirm of Hendrik's shoulders. 

"Wait, I have it– loose morals!" He raised a finger, grinning. "None whatsoever… Common, decent men like us are hard to find in a world of fools and tarts." 

Static in his brain. Head thumped against the wall, Hendrik's gauntlet at his throat. 

"I will not stand by and let you attempt to disgrace the good Sir Norberto's honour!" 

El grinned. "Oh, so it does have feelings then?" 

Hendrik pushed no harder. Interesting. Taunting him had no effect, but if he went for Sylv… 

"Henny, stop! He's not well." 

Hendrik immediately dropped his hand, bowing his head in shame. He closed his eyes. 

Sylv sauntered right up to them. El stared, humming gently to himself, foot bobbing. He locked eyes with Hendrik. 

"He hates being called Norberto, you know that? Either you do, and you're a shithead or you don't and you're just fucking stupid." 

Sylv raised his hand, face drawn taut. 

El's mouth twitched up. Ready. 

He stumbled back against the wall, cheek stinging. The classic Sylv Sobering Slap. Though he couldn't help but notice he was much lighter with the stroke than he was on the battlefield. Boring. 

Sylv glanced down at his shoes, eyes laden with guilt. 

Hendrik released a heavy breath. 

El sucked in air through his nose, then shook with laughter. He braced a hand to his knee, chortling noisily. 

Sylv glanced back up. 

El's mouth twisted into his grin. His body snaked forward, lips close to Sylv's cheek. 

"Harder." 

Sylv's brows lowered sharply, fingers clasping the wrist of reddened, still shaking palm. He briskly twirled around. 

"Is that what Erik told you to say, huh?" El's chest trembled, breathing erratic. "Or is it FUCKING Saraj?!" 

Sylv brought his hand slowly down, pressing it to his chest. Silently, he took a step away. 

"Aren't you gonna tell me which position you did it in? Huh?" El stomped up behind him. "Or where or why or what the FUCK you were thinking?!" 

Sylv shook his head, huffing softly. His eyes remained on the floor. 

Hendrik stood silently, as much use as a sleeping spell on a witch. 

Sylv's eyes cast back, glistening. "Henny… Say something." 

Hendrik's lips parted. Then closed. 

El smirked. 

Sylv nodded, swiping a finger over his cheek. He glanced once more at Hendrik, then walked away. 

"Sylvando," he said softly, quickly following in his wake. 

El rolled his eyes, arms crossing. "Cowards." 

His eyes caught on the heavy wooden carvings. He reached down the back of his tunic, lifting the bottle to his lips. Acrid. 

He smiled broadly.

"Hey bitches!" he declared, shoving at the double doors. "Time to plan our war on Fryssie and Kryssie. Maybe we could kill some fuckin' vikings while we're at it."

He mimed slashing their throats, grinning. 

"I'm so sorry, Rab," Jade uttered. "I tried." 

Rab gave that forlorn look that El was incredibly tired of. "Why don't you take a seat, laddie?" 

* * *

Bitter, white, harsh, cold. 

Snow was a deathly blanket,

He knew all too well.

* * *

El sunk back into his seat, barely trying to recall the details of the meeting. It was all stupid anyway. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fuzz in his vision. 

A young, pretty blond perched on the lap of a greasy middle aged man. El squinted. One of the boring old men from his court. 

The blond smiled brightly, and all El could see was him. It was a silly thought, though, because it was Erik who had done that kind of work, not Saraj. Erik had blue hair. 

Yeah, blue. Erik was glacial blue, skin like snow, and Saraj was warm like sunlight over desert sand. 

But weren't they the same person? 

El downed the glass of rosé and sloppily poured another.

Part of him wanted to buy the blond's time and simply listen to him. Ask a few questions. But it was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was all stupid. Incredibly fucking stupid. 

"Hello, my friend." 

El leapt to his feet and squeezed Faris tight, eyes briefly closing to avoid the harsh lights of downtown. He loathed the hood scraping against his scalp. The pounding in his head. "Thank you for coming to see me!" 

El flopped back into the booth, body like lead. 

Faris offered a brittle grin, tentatively sitting beside him. That made El sad. Faris should be happy. He was nothing but sunshine. And pretty too. 

He bowed his head. "Of course." 

El's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. "How's your father?" 

"Not good. They wish to side with Frysabel. I have endeavoured most strongly to persuade them, on my honour as a Knight." He weakly pressed a hand to his chest. "They see Dundrasil as volatile." 

El rolled his eyes, knocking back the rest of his glass. Idiot. The Sultan really was stupid. "Boring!" 

"My friend, it is not good–" 

"Have you done something different with your hair today? It looks nice." El tucked a lock behind Faris' ear. "Very pretty." 

"Oh, thank you," he said quietly. "My father–" 

"Why do you look so sad? Want me to cheer you up?" 

Faris smiled meekly. "I am perfectly adequate, thank you." 

"Don't you wanna feel better than adequate?" El's hand slid to his knee. 

Faris jumped. "Can I tell you a story?" 

"Sure!" 

El tipped the wine bottle over his glass, viciously hitting the bottom when nothing came out. He groaned, casting it aside. 

Glass littered the stone floor. 

Faris' brows lowered. 

"S'fine. Someone'll clear it." El gestured vaguely with his hand. "Anyway, tell me your bedtime story." 

Faris fiddled with the lace of his cape, hood falling over his eyes. "There was once this very handsome, very charming man. I saw him whenever I partook in public speakings, always right at the front of the crowd, smiling broadly. I thought- 'he couldn't possibly be smiling at me. He is a hero. I am but a lowly Prince.'" 

El nodded, falling into Faris' side. He sloppily pressed his head to his shoulder, eyes falling shut. Mm, everything was a lot less spinny like this. Comfy too. 

A steadying hand found his arm. Faris' voice rumbled through his cheek. 

"My father invited him to the Palace. A man of the highest prestige. A man, who I later found out, was interested in me." The same brittle smile. "He came back to my room to sit and chat." 

El blinked, righting himself. He offered a knowing smirk, nudging him with his elbow. "I'm guessing not much sitting and chatting happened, eh?" 

Faris adjusted his glass of water. He wiped at a stray droplet. 

"No well… he tried to kiss me and I politely said no." His eyes darted briefly to El's. 

El pursed his lips. "If you're trying to turn me down you can just say no. I don't need some dumb story." He grabbed the other bottle of wine, tipping it over his glass. Nothing. He grunted and shoved the bottle back down. Useless. 

"You are not listening!" 

El froze, hand wrapped around the bottleneck. Faris never shouted. Or even seemed vaguely hurt, even when directly insulted. Whenever someone mocked him, he would laugh them off. Happy. Proud. 

This Faris looked scared. 

"A thousand sorrows, I had no intention to raise my voice! It was incredibly discourteous of me. Please forgive me, my friend." 

His body bent forward, in that awkward bow he was fond of. Miserable. 

El clumsily patted his head. "Hey, Faris, what's wrong?"

Faris turned away. A sniff. "He didn't listen to me either." He shook his head, as if clearing his mind of the thought. "There was a time I once admired you. You could say I was… enamoured. But I saw the way you looked at Erik and I moved on. And now I think I must take my leave." 

Faris stood, eyes shining. 

"Faris wait!" El stumbled to his feet. "What happened with the guy?" 

His mouth twisted, eyes falling to the floor. "Father said I was incredibly lucky to have become intimately acquainted with a man of such high esteem. He was something of a celebrity, you see." He flipped his hand to the side. His laugh broken. "It is no matter. He no longer resides in Gallopolis." 

El ground his teeth. "So he just left you in the room with that man?!" 

"It is a prince's duty to serve his people. Goodnight, El." 

"But wait!" 

Faris took his hand. "Please write to me. I like you very much, just not in this manner. I do not wish for you or your people to be harmed. I am sure, with time, we can come to a peaceful arrangement." 

El clasped his hand tightly. His voice trembled. Anger or pain– he wasn't sure. Faris wasn't supposed to be hurt.

He was supposed to laugh. 

That annoying, grating laugh, Erik would have said. But he wasn't here. El thought it was sweet. 

Tears blurred his vision. 

"Can I give you a hug?" 

Faris wiped his eye. He laughed softly. "Hugs are enjoyable." 

El threw his arms around him. "I love you. As my best friend. Sorry for misinterpreting stuff and being a dick. You're one of the few people who still make me feel wanted." 

Faris smiled. The first genuine smile. 

"I wanted you to feel as wanted as you make me feel." 

"I don't need drunken touches to feel wanted." 

"I know. Sorry. Sorry I'm always fucked." 

Faris laughed warmly, precious patters of sunlight in El's clouded mind. He tilted up his jaw with a gentle touch. "Chin up my friend, the future is bright." 

"How can you believe that?" 

"We all go through our own personal Hell. Then we rise from the ashes." 

El bit his cheek. 

"Look after yourself." 

His cloak swished. 

"Wait!" El tripped over the edge of the table. "What was his name?" 

Faris faltered. His eyes fell to the floor. 

"Faiz." 

* * *

His fingers followed the groove of the ancient stone. Not a crack, not a single gap he could slip through to be with him. 

Tears trembled over his smiling lips. 

"You bastard. I love you." 

Gold and blue merged as his head struck the wall. He laughed, tasting blood. 

"But I hate you so fucking much." 

* * *

Thud, thud, thud. 

Pacing. Up and down. Pacing. Nervous energy crackled through his bones. Pacing. 

Time ticked by too slowly. But also too fast. You blinked and everything you ever loved was gone. 

His heart stopped. 

The door catch. 

Faiz hummed, leaning in the doorway. "You look positively radiant, your majesty." He offered a mocking bow. 

El settled on the bed, patting the expanse next to him, hand pulsing with adrenaline. He reclined on the cushions, a sloppy overcompensation, crookedly arching back like an injured cat. 

"I'm sure you've heard Gallopolis is siding with Frysabel." 

Faiz snorted. The mattress creaked as he fell down. El's unsteady smile faltered, shifting like the weight in his boot. 

"Fear not, I bear no allegiance to my embarrassment of a homeland." Faiz leaned in, breath sticky sweet. "I have no concerns about crushing them and their ridiculous prince."

El's nail scraped over the silk, sharp enough to tear. Anger flashed in his voice. "Faris is kind." 

"Kindness is stupidity," he muttered, grasping his chin with rough fingertips.

El's mouth tensed. A forced smile. 

"You would never be stupid enough to be kind." 

"I suppose not." El's breath hitched. "Though I'm both stupid and unkind to myself." 

His breath huffed over El's lips. His hand stroked over the fine prickle of hair. A soft chuckle. 

"You have spirit. I like that." 

"What about Faris?" 

Faiz spat on the floor. "A spineless coward." 

"I don't think it's cowardly to see the best in people." His eyes stung. "Though I guess some people can't be redeemed. "

"Now you're getting it." 

Faiz kissed him. All tongue and no thought. 

"I need to grab something," El whispered. 

"Getting straight down to business?" Faiz chuckled. "His majesty takes no prisoners." 

El's hand rummaged his bedside table, looking for nothing in particular. His shaking fists balled. Breathe. Fucking. Breathe, dammit. 

"You and Faris know each other well?" El asked lightly. 

A stupid question. Knowing more wouldn't ease the pain Faiz had caused. Only make it bloom more into an uncontrollable anger. 

He ground his teeth. 

"Well, the thing about stupid people is that they believe anything you tell them." Faiz kicked off his boots, smearing dirt on the sheets. "Fall at your feet with the slightest compliment. You are of a much higher calibre, it has been many a week–"

"We're talking about Faris, not me!" El inhaled sharply through his nose. 

Faiz snorted. "Like fucking a plank of wood, then, my love. Lucky I got there before he started bedding commoners. Could've caught something nasty." 

A pencil snapped in his grip. 

"Don't fret. I'm sure you'll be much more… interesting." 

El scrubbed his watery eyes. He smiled, shakily rocking his boot.

"You've only been fucked by one guy, right?" 

El smiled. 

"His name was Erik." 

"Erik? Who the fuck is that?" Faiz gave an exaggerated retch. "Sounds like some barbaric viking shit."

El bit his cheek. Erik would hate that. He despised those brutes. Besides, Erik was soft and sweet, curling closer to him in his sleep and mumbling softly. He often used to wake up with a mouthful of blue spikes. Or was it golden curls? 

His fingers grazed over the imprint in his arm. 

He was nothing like them at all. 

"Uh, also known as Saraj?" he said quietly. His throat throbbed. 

"Saddle?!" Faiz roared with laughter, palm slapping the headboard. "No-one speaks of how amusing his majesty is."

El stomped back to the bed, draping himself over Faiz's lap. "Hands on the bed." 

"Why are you so grumpy?" 

"Because." 

"You haven't been fucked in a while–" His head slammed back against the cushions. El shoved both hands into his chest, holding him still. 

"Just taking my boots off," he muttered. "Any final words?" 

Faiz grinned. "Sounds like something you would ask a man before he is hanged?" 

"So?" 

"May I die with this the last vision I see." 

El smiled, reaching to brush hair behind his ear. Oh– no hair. Just stubble. His hand flipped the sole of his boot. 

Swift. Satisfying. He dragged it up. Then sliced. 

Faiz gasped horribly. He squirmed. Pathetic, really. Blood leeched out, painting the green sheets black in the moonlight. 

"You, you, you– crazy fucking bitch!" 

El's hand slipped on the blood covered hilt. He wanted to twist the blade. Make him hurt. 

Faiz's arms trembled.

"Why? WHY?!" 

His lips parted briefly. He clambered over his quivering body, smiling. He lowered his mouth to Faiz's ear. 

"You are a disgusting, smug piece of shit who deserves to die." 

"Y-You," Faiz breathed raggedly, "I hope you succeed in topping yourself." 

El laughed. "The fact you want me dead makes me want to live out of spite." 

His hand reached for the hilt of the dagger, one crafted with Erik in mind, hands wet with blood. 

"Should I twist this?" 

Faiz shook his head rapidly. "P-Please, please, I'll do anything. Anything you ask." 

El stared off at the wall, eyes dancing over the tapestry of the Heroes. Saraj knelt in front of it the first time he entered his chambers, staring. El hoped he appreciated the smear of gold he painted over the thief in a fit of despair. 

Or the way he had coloured in some of the wedding pictures. 

He cast his eyes back down. 

"I wonder what they'll do to me when they find your miserable corpse in here. Maybe they'll cart me off to a loony bin, and I can hang out with all the other crazy people. That might be nice." 

Faiz hummed shakily, eyes streaming. Blood trickled from his mouth. 

"Or…" El lifted his hand. "Maybe I could just leave you like this. You might survive." He yanked a fistful of dark hair at the root. "But if I do, everytime you see that big ugly scar I want you to remember the horrible fucking pain you put my best friend through." 

"What are you– what do you mean?" 

El tugged harder. "You mean you don't know what you've done?!" 

The creak of wood. 

No, no, no. Not yet. Not now. It didn't matter who saw, but not until he got the confession. The apology. 

Faiz laughed, coughing wetly. Choking

Droplets of blood hit El's cheek. 

"El!" Jade screeched, marching up to the bedside. "You're not supposed to be shagging the night shift–" 

She tugged at his arm. Her hand caught on his. Crimson on her fingers. 

Her eyes popped out. Body stiff. 

"No…" she mumbled, hand coming to her sling. A red fingerprint on the cotton. 

El glanced away, unable to bear the brokenness of her expression. 

"Guards, seize him!" 

Inky tears fell to the floor. Jade briskly turned away. 

El lifted his blood slick hands, allowing the guards to pull them behind his back. 

Jade pressed a palm to her forehead. "Take him away," she cried. "Now!" 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Stop the bullshit smalltalk, smartass. Why are you in here?" Her eyes narrowed angrily. 

"Stabbed a pervert," he mumbled. 

Mia broke out into a grin, hair falling in a river over her shoulder. "Oh, neat! Erik once threatened to carve up this dude who tried to take this drunk girl home."

El sniffed. Cheeks damp and sticky. His head hurt. "I don't know what to do without him." 

"Sure you do, idiot. Stab perverts. It's a nice new hobby, huh?" 

El smiled briefly, chest spasming as he hiccuped. 

"But maybe find another that doesn't land you in jail. Have you tried knitting?" 

El shook his head, hugging his knees to his chest. He exhaled slowly, trying to bring some calm to the ongoing storm. 

"Oh, did I mention I brought a friend?" 

The gentle patter of sandals slid over the jagged stone. 

"Hello, my friend. How are you?" 

"Faris!" El grasped his offered palm through the bars, holding it close. 

"S-Sorry. I know you wouldn't have resorted to violence, but I was so upset and angry, I couldn't take the thought of him hurting you–" 

Faris gently hushed him, thumb smoothing over the back of his hand. "I told father. He says Gallopolis is in Dundrasil's favour."

El's lips parted. Mia grinned over Faris' shoulder, picking her nails with an especially sharp knife. He wasn't sure how she was allowed down here with that. Maybe the guards were scared of her. 

El sucked air through his nose. "I didn't do it for Gallopolis or Dundrasil. I did it for you. I was so angry that he hurt you and–" 

"I know," Faris said warmly. 

El gulped. "Is he dead?" 

"No. A little feverish but he will live." 

"Okay." El chewed at his cheek. "Not sure how I feel about that one." 

"I can finish him off for ya!" Mia twirled her knife. 

They both scowled. 

"Fine, fine," she muttered, heading back towards the steps. "I'll leave you with your new boyfriend." 

"Hey! That's not fair. He has Lou and Erik, Saraj, they are, were, uh, my boyfriends– husbands– whatever!" 

"Erik's dead, he couldn't give half a shit about who's sticking what in who. Give me a break!" She rolled her eyes, lightly jumping up the steps two at a time. 

"He's not dead he's just…" a tear fell from his cheek. He tugged at the bandage on his wrist. "Waiting. He's just waiting for me." 

Faris' other hand came over his wrist. "You know, if you left unexpectedly, I would miss you terribly." 

El's core shook. He sniffed loudly. "I'm sorry." 

"There is nothing to apologise for. Can I tell you something?" 

El nodded feverishly. 

"After, the aforementioned incident, I had to be revived by the court physician. I lied to father and said I had mistakenly believed one dose was the entire bottle. He said I was a stupid boy who could have got himself killed." 

El held his breath. 

"Then after your arrest I told him the truth of the matter with Faiz and the bottle of tincture and he felt strongly. Strongly as I do now." Faris gripped his hand tighter.

El sniffled.

"There is something we do in Gallopolis for those we have lost. It brings peace to us and them." 

El nodded. 

"I think the princess is keeping you down here as a lesson but as they now know the true nature of the incident, I believe she will let you out shortly." 

El glanced down at the stone floor. "I want to help Erik rest peace–" he croaked, "Peacefully. What do I need to do?" 

* * *

"It's ridiculous, really. Such a sophisticated society with complex architecture but no drainage system? Did they all wade through raw sewage?" Lou scoffed. 

Faris smiled and tugged on his hand, pulling him away. "You know I love it when you talk about your drain things, my darling, but remember what I said before about the right place…" 

His voice faded into a gentle hum. 

El's fingers curled around the deep red wax in his palm. 

A familiar hand tapped his arm. A touch he missed. "You ready honey?" 

El smiled, tears blurring his vision. He knelt down, placing the candle into the cold filigree holder. Rosewood incense tickled his throat. 

Sylv knelt beside him, palm touching his. 

El crumpled into his side, shaking. 

Veronica snapped her fingers, bathing the room in warmth. Gold and blue glittered, softer this time. Less dazzling. 

But still sore. 

El shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself to breathe deeply. 

Veronica cleared her throat. "We're gathered here to celebrate the life of a fucking bellend..." 

"Veronica!" Serena gasped, scandalised. 

"...known as Erik." 

"No, it's okay." El smiled softly. "It's what he would want." 

"This dickhead, well, he was a handful to say the least. One thing he was very good at was annoying the hell out of me, but don't tell him I said that."

Jade's chuckle ran warmly through the temple. 

"He annoyed the fuck out of me, too!" Mia called, a hoarseness to her voice. El kept his eyes shut, knowing she didn't like to be seen while crying. Just like her brother. 

His chest hollowed out. He hadn't been there for Mia, too wrapped up in his own misery to think of her. But she was there for him the second he got thrown in jail. 

The familiar scent of sandalwood wafted over, Faris at his other side. A ringed hand took his. 

"We'll always be here for you honey," Sylv whispered into his hair, stroking the soft couple of inches that had grown. 

El shuddered. He had been horrible to Sylv too. But here he was. 

Faris swiped the pad of his thumb over El's palm. 

"Mr Sylvando is correct. Always." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I wrote El here was drawn from a manic episode I had as a teen, which did involve shaving off all my hair, showing up to my classes drunk and other behaviours explored here. 
> 
> It took a lot of emotional energy to write this, so I really hope it had an impact on you. 
> 
> If you experience any of these kinds of symptoms it's really important you contact a health professional, or tell a loved one you're feeling ill. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment if you have a chance and I wish you the loveliest of days! <3


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